


A Clockwork Headroom

by ThePreciousHeart



Series: Stories From (Twenty Minutes Into) the Future [1]
Category: A Clockwork Orange (1971), Max Headroom (TV)
Genre: Bryce Lynch in biker gear, Courtroom Drama, Crimes & Criminals, Edison and Theora play catch with the idiot ball, F/M, Fashionable Alex doing what he does best, Game Shows, Gang Violence, Love Triangles, Medical Inaccuracies, Nadsat, News Media, Possible Nadsat inaccuracies, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Television Watching, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-19 04:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16527266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/ThePreciousHeart
Summary: When teenage gangs start terrorizing the streets, Edison and Theora are pointed towards a man called Alex Burgess in hopes that he's the mastermind behind it. Though Alex claims to be innocent, a tragic incident would prove that he's not as "cured" as he claims to be. When Alex escapes, the manhunt is on...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written and posted in 2013. I removed it because I became ashamed of the content, but now it's back in order to complete the trilogy of Max Headroom fics on this site. I've also done some light editing.
> 
> If I'd been inspired more recently to write this fic, I definitely wouldn't have written it the way I did. In fact, I might not have written it at all. But as changing the details that bother me would result in a massive overhaul of the series that I just don't have the energy to do, this is all I have to offer. Consider that a disclaimer.

       “This is Edison Carter, coming to you live and direct from Network 23…”

       The main control room of the TV corporation Network 23 buzzed with its usual action, ensuring that the live broadcast ran like clockwork. Idle workers fell out of pace with the machine and faltered, lingering behind to watch the network’s star reporter onscreen. Most workers, though, were too busy with transmission to focus on anything else. They could not stop to enjoy the picture because they were working hard at making sure the picture came through in the first place.

        Two near-permanent fixtures of the network control room sat and stood, respectively, at ease in one of the far-flung corners of the room. Theora Jones, Network 23’s most talented controller, sat oblivious to all but the world within the TV screen at which she peered so intently, watching and listening to every mere detail of the news broadcast. Behind her stood Murray, the network’s producer, his stance and countenance less relaxed and his eyes equally glued to the screen, murmuring words of criticism or praise every now and then to the person on TV. Their rapt attention was synonymous, their gaze and even their breaths falling into place as they were captured and captivated by the person on which the entire broadcast hinged, their friend and fellow Network 23 employee Edison Carter.

       Theora’s favorite part of live broadcasting- and really anytime she worked as Edison’s controller while he scouted out stories, or went on assignment- was the visceral experience it provided, the sense of being connected so closely to another person. She saw through the eyes of Edison’s camera, heard everything that his microphone picked up. And on the flip side, if she spoke into her ever-present microphone, Edison would be able to hear her and reply. As long as she wore the microphone, and he held his camera, they would always be able to communicate. It gave Theora an odd comfort to know exactly where Edison was and what he was doing at all times, in case of the occasional danger.

         The story for today’s broadcast was the aftermath of one such occasional danger, which had frightened the city’s populace for over a month and, even while currently quelled, still had the potential to flare up any moment. Theora gazed upon Edison’s familiar face with passive indifference, the red letters in the top left corner of the screen blinking with a sole word of hope- LIVE. In a commanding, enrapturing tone that was sure to draw viewers to their TV sets, Edison began his opening authoritative spiel. He had walked out of Network 23’s station rehearsing it not very long ago.

        “Today marks the beginning of the end of a sudden era of violence among the streets of our city. For weeks our citizens have been afraid to walk alone at night, for the threat of a blade at their back and a lecherous hand at their hip. A rise in organized gang activity has caused us to password-protect our doors and peep out from behind our curtains. Today, the Metrocops have finally uncovered the lair of these misguided youths.”

       Theora watched rapturously as Edison rose to his feet and lifted the camera onto his shoulders, treating the audience of surely thousands to his full view. On the opposite side of a dusty street in the Fringes from where Edison was standing, a swarm of Metrocops marched countless young boys out from an abandoned building, blocking the criminals’ attempts to escape with quiet apathy. Each boy struggled with all his might to break free of the bonds clamped around his wrists, writhing and shouting obscenities to his guardians. Their overdramatic screams for help were so loud that Theora winced before remembering how dangerous they were. “Shame on you, brothers!” one boy was heard crying, twisting in the Metrocop’s grasp. “We will oobivat you all when we break from the Staja! Are you slooshying? WE WILL _OOBIVAT_ YOU!”

       “What the hell is he saying?” Murray muttered quietly under his breath, though not so quietly that Theora didn’t hear it. “What language is that?”

       “I’ve got no idea,” Theora admitted. She watched as Edison moved across the street with his camera, zooming in on the murderous eyes of the teenage vagabonds. He narrated the spectacle with a paradoxically detached, yet impassioned tone.

        “These delinquents have been hiding in a run-down warehouse, dragging their female victims back here as trophies and occasionally taking other prisoners to rough up. The criminals are all male, and all are teenagers. Their behavior is something that cannot be explained by our modern society. Where have these individuals, some of them just barely out of boyhood, learned that such sickening cruelty is acceptable? How are they not pacified by the simple thrill of watching TV? The animalistic behavior of these teenagers suggests that our city must work harder at confining potential violence, nipping gang activity in the bud. Or perhaps there are higher forces at work here.” The camera zoomed out to reveal the final criminal being led into a waiting Metrocop van.

       “That’s our Edison,” Murray commented. “Managing to find something suspicious even on mundane assignments.”

       “This assignment can hardly be considered mundane,” Theora replied softly. “The existence of these criminals has shaken our society entirely. Now that they’ve been apprehended, we can repair it.” Personally, she was highly relieved that the boys’ lair had been found, and not only because it meant fewer all-nighters at work.

       Just before Edison closed out with his final repetition of the words that had opened the broadcast, the last boy in line suddenly twisted in the grip of the Metrocop that was leading him forward. “Let me GO, you bratchny!” He tried to lunge forward out of the reach of the Metrocop, but his bound hands made it harder for him to maneuver. The remaining men standing guard rushed forward, and Edison’s camera zoomed in closer.

        “I think this is the most action we’re going to see all night,” Murray said. “Still makes for good viewing, though.”

        And then the boy spat a sentence that changed not only the course of the night, but the course of the following weeks as well. “STOP! I want to govoreet with Edison Carter! I want to govoreet with the chelloveck over there!” Onscreen, Theora could see him flailing before the group of authority figures, singling out Edison from the rapturous crowd that the event had drawn. Boos rose up as the boy struggled against his captors.

          “Did you hear that too, Control?” Edison murmured, his voice more surprised that interested.

          “Heard it loud and clear, Edison,” Theora answered.

        The next thing she knew, the camera’s image began to move forward. Edison was walking past the throng of citizens, past the guards who blocked the citizens from getting too close, and heading straight for the violent young man who was swiftly being recaptured by the Metrocops. There was only time for Murray’s despairing “Oh, hell,” before the boy was tossed roughly into the back of the police truck, which slammed shut. The crowd burst into cheers that interrupted Edison’s oncoming words. He made sure to shout them, however, as the cheers died down and the truck rumbled to life.

        “Hey!” Though Edison was skilled enough not to jostle the camera, it was clear from the motion onscreen that he was racing towards the truck. “He wanted to talk to me! Don’t go away! HEY!”

       “Why is he getting hung up on this?” Murray said aloud. “It’s not the first time someone’s talked to him while on assignment!”

         Theora had no answer for Murray. She watched helplessly as the Metrocops descended, crowding around Edison and cutting him off from the truck as it prepared to leave. _“Dammit-”_ she heard him swear, as the screen filled with the faces of the Metrocops ever so politely insisting he stand back with their ever so polite strong arms. “That kid said he wanted to talk to me!”

       “Edison, you’re making too big a deal out of this,” Theora said to him before Murray could. Hands were reaching for the camera, and her stomach dropped, even though she knew that they couldn’t touch her.

       “Cut it off,” Murray muttered, right before the screen went black and the word DISCONNECTED popped up before Theora’s eyes. Someone had shut off Edison’s vidicam, for better or for worse.

       “What was that all about?” Theora mused, turning around to face Murray. Murray’s only response was to shake his head and sigh.

         “I wish Edison would have better sense than to run off after a criminal in the middle of a broadcast.” He looked away, agitation flashing in his eyes. “Let’s just hope that he makes it back here safely, and doesn’t stumble across any potential stories on the way back.”

          Theora allowed herself a fond smile. She gazed expectantly upwards as Murray continued, “As soon as Edison gets here, you’re going home. Take the night off, rest up a bit. You need it.” He blinked and amended his statement. “Hell, we all do.”

       “Thank you, Murray,” Theora responded, running her fingers through her tousled brown hair. At last, no more worrisome nights sitting in Network 23’s control room, following Edison as he stalked the streets searching for the source of the gang activity. Tonight she would finally sleep soundly.

       Murray nodded idly, and then sighed once more. “You wanna bet how pissed he’s going to be when he arrives here?”

         “I’d bet, but I’m not sure about the odds,” Theora said, pushing herself up from her seat to clear her workstation. At that moment, minutes after Edison’s face had disappeared from the screen, his more dramatic, occasionally insufferable virtual likeness replaced him. Max Headroom dominated one of Theora’s smaller computer monitors, looking put out and ready to complain. “C-c-c-can I come out now-now-now?”

       “Hello, Max,” Theora greeted the frustrated CGI.

       “Oh, d-d-d-don’t you hello M-Max to m-m-me-me,” Max groaned. “Do you know how l-l-long I’ve been waiting-waiting-waiting for Ed-Edison to f-f-f-finish his broadcast-cast? T-t-t-too long if you ask me! I tried to re-re-return to Network-Network-Network 23, but my l-lesser half had taken over all the damn mo-mo-monitirs! And ev-ev-everyone in the ci-city was watching. The most exci-exci-exciting place to b-be was Bryce’s, and he’s working on some project-ject-ject and said I c-c-couldn’t di-di- _distract_ him.”

        “The whole city was watching? That’ll be great for the ratings,” Murray muttered, while Theora tried to pacify Max. “I’m sorry, Max, but Edison ran a bit overtime… Was there anything you wanted to say to us?”

       “On-on-only for Edison-Edison-Edison,” Max pouted. “I have a few ch-ch-ch-choice words for him-him-him when he gets b-back here!”

        “You’ve never complained about this before,” Murray told Max, clearly fed up with his presence already.

        “Yeah, well n-now I’ve had-had-had it!” Max declared angrily. “I’m t-t-t-tired of b-b-being tied to one-one-one network-work. Sure, I can c-c-c-cruise down whatever ch-ch-channel I w-want, but it’s 23 that always-ways-ways relies on _me_ to p-promote them. And here I am, waiting _not_ so patient-patient-patiently to sp-spe-speak with you-you-you, and you’re watching Ed-Ed- _Edison_ over me-m-m-me!”

        “I hope this isn’t indicative of Edison’s true feelings,” Murray said to Theora.

        “I H-H-HEARD THAT.” Max glared directly at Murray, who stared back as if he had no idea what to do with Max- which, come to think of it, was the way he stared at Max most of the time.

         “We have no choice but to watch Edison,” Theora pointed out. “It’s our job at the network. You’ve got to learn to wait your turn when you want to speak with anyone here.”

       “Max, were you watching Edison’s broadcast?” Murray asked, cutting into the conversation. “Do you know why Edison wanted to talk with the boy that called his name?”

      “Oh, gr-gr-great!” Max grumbled. “Now you’re leaping-leaping-leaping to conclusions! I wasn’t watching Edison’s br-br-broadcast-cast! How c-c-c-could I have been?  J-j-just because I can vis-visit any TV that I w-w-want in the city, d-d-doesn’t m-mean that I’m obli-obli-obligated to tune in to c-c-c-current events! If you’re only g-g-going to pick my brain and n-not even ask _‘how-h-h-how are you, M-Max,’_ I m-m-might as well say _adieu! Adieu! Adieu!”_ With that final word of French, Max disappeared from Theora’s screen, to be replaced by television static.

       “My, he’s certainly gotten testy recently,” Murray said. “I hope this doesn’t mean a revolution is in our midst.”

        It wasn’t long afterwards before Max’s flesh and blood equivalent showed up. Edison burst through the doors of Network 23, full of trembling energy and a powerful sweeping gaze. Theora noticed, from her refuge behind the computer, that if she and Murray had made the bet, she’d have been raking in the credit. Many times Theora had seen Edison stalk through Network 23’s control room, quivering with rage, and rush to find and explode at Murray. On those occasions, the room would fall quiet with hushed whispers as the eyes of every employee turned towards the disgraced reporter. Now, Theora could see from the clenched fists balling up his coat that Edison was a bit annoyed, but his purposeful stride suggested that he was less irritated with the Metrocops having prevented him from speaking with the teen criminal, and more focused on dreaming up ways to launch his next assignment.

        Praised by his allies as a top-notch reporter with a strong sense of ethics. Hated by his enemies for always getting the last word or finding a fresh angle on their reports. Called out as a cad, a playboy, in his younger days, and still bearing a subtle smirk and sarcasm to all his friends. All of these qualities flashed from Edison Carter’s lacerating blue eyes. He was everything to Theora, everything but one essential element, a line that she refused to cross even as it grew thinner day by day. He swept across the floor in the direction of Murray, while various network employees trailed him with their eyes. They realized that something important had occurred, and were hungry for details, but none of them dared to ask just yet, knowing that any discussions to be had must be approved by Murray firsthand.

       “You’re not angry?” Murray asked as Edison halted in the middle of the floor, and up close Theora could see that Murray was right even before Edison shook his head. Murray’s bond to Edison was not as strong as Theora’s, with whom Edison shared an aural and visual connection. He was likely not used to reading Edison’s body language. Now Theora could see that Edison’s eyes were bright with excitement, not sparks of frustration, and his lips were twisted in an intense half-smile rather than a grimace. Anyone else could have misread these signals, but Theora understood Edison perfectly. She stood up and crossed the room to properly greet him.

       “No, Murray, not exactly,” Edison was explaining as Theora reached him. “They were right to pull the plug. I just wanted to know what that boy had to tell me. I have a feeling it was important.”

       “It’s nice to hear you admit someone other than yourself was right for once,” Murray said, though his words held no barbs. Edison playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t make too much out of it.”

        “Good job tonight, Edison,” Theora took the opportunity to say. He shrugged off the compliment with a smirk in his voice. “All in a day’s work.”

        Murray gave Edison humble congratulations as well. “It was a simple wrap-up, but you handled it well, up to the point where you rushed off.” He met Edison’s scorching gaze levelly. “Tell me, why did you want to talk to that boy so badly?”

           “Well, didn’t you hear him?” Edison said, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “He wanted to talk to me. I told you, it might have been important.”

        “I’m not sure,” Theora said. “I wouldn’t trust any of those criminals any farther than I could throw one.”

        “Which is how far exactly?” Edison ribbed. Theora folded her arms across her breasts. “I’ll have you know I’m not as weak as I look, Edison. Growing up in foster homes surrounded by boys taught me a thing or two about throwing. Especially throwing punches…”

        “Hm,” Edison muttered humorously, but his mind had turned onto other topics. “We’ll see about that someday. Anyway.” He returned his attention to Murray, who was saying goodnight to an employee, and waited until Murray was facing him once more. “I asked the Metrocops to call me on the viewphone if the boy they caught has anything to say to me. They’re probably going to call here, so I think I’ll stay a bit longer tonight.”

        “Oh no, you’re not,” Murray started to protest, before Theora, in an attempt to quell an ensuing argument, jumped in. “You don’t have to stay any longer than you normally would. I’ll stick around down here and monitor the m- computer until the call comes through.” So much for her beauty sleep, but if it was for Edison’s sake, she couldn’t complain.

          “You need to get some rest,” Murray said. “It’s been how long since the two of you had a full eight hours of sleep?”

        “Aw, Theora, you don’t have to stay up all night for me,” Edison said, lowering his tone of voice a hair, and Theora gazed helplessly at him before silently reprimanding herself and blinking to clear her mind. Sometimes after a broadcast, it was difficult to distinguish the televised image of Edison from the real life version. Such things became even murkier when Max decided to make an appearance. She was sure that if Murray or any other network employee had offered to stay awake working for Edison, he wouldn’t have denied them. This wasn’t the first time Edison had given Theora the special treatment, and though she hated to admit it, he still had the power to weaken her resolve.

        “I thought you’d love to keep me up all night,” Theora teased, turning the statement into a joke. How had Edison not seen the bait? He needed to keep his wits sharp. Edison blinked, and a wry grin filled his face, his voice slipping into a naughty tone. “Why, Theora, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

        “You’ve known me for too long for me to believe _that,”_ Theora dismissed his comment. Edison looked ready to retaliate with a playful jab before Murray announced, “Children, please…” The two turned their attention back to Murray and sulked as if they really were children.

       “Edison’s right; it’s not necessary for you to stay overnight, Theora. You both have worked hard enough over the past month and you need to go home and take some time off. I’ll stay behind at 23 and forward the call to Edison when it comes through.”

         “But you’ve been working harder than either of us, Murray,” Theora tried to say, before the nearest viewphone came to life, triumphantly projecting the face of a Metrocop. “Edison Carter. Are you there?” The trio turned around, and Edison went immediately to the viewphone, sitting down before it. “Yeah, I’m here. What is it?”

        “Looks like none of us will have to stay behind,” Theora whispered in Murray’s ear. He muttered something incoherent and moved away to listen to Edison’s conversation, standing just out of the Metrocop’s view. Theora, for her part, chose to hover behind Edison’s shoulder.

        “About the kids we picked up tonight…” the Metrocop began. “Well, none of ‘em are talking to us. They’re just sitting there with their mouths clamped shut, facing the wall. The ones that do talk are using some weird made-up language that we can’t figure out. And the only one that’s speakin’ English just keeps demanding to talk to you, over and over.”

         “Could you let me see him now?” Edison asked, a hint of irritation breaking through his composure. The man on the viewphone nodded. “He said the only way he’d get the boys to fess up to their crimes is if you’re the first to hear his story. Don’t ask me why. Maybe he has a thing for network television.”

        “Could be,” Edison murmured. The Metrocop stepped away from the viewphone, to be replaced by another Metrocop leading the same scrawny, blond-haired teenager with defiant eyes who’d called out to Edison up to the device. He was forced to sit down and stared blankly into the screen, at last murmuring in a creaky voice, “Hi hi hi there, my brother.”

           “Hello,” Edison greeted the boy, slipping into his interview mode. Theora stepped off to the side like Murray and watched the screen from afar. “What’s your name?”

         The boy raised his chin high. “My eemya is Les, oh my brother,” he said. “And you are Edison Carter, one of the most like great and high lewdies of this modern age of network TV.”

        “What slang are you using?” Edison questioned right off the bat. “I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

            “It is called nadsat-talk, my dear brother,” Les replied, his eyes flickering about restlessly as if he was watching someone nearby. In the background, Theora could hear cries of pain, followed by guards or Metrocops harshly barking, “Move it!” She shivered and tried to keep following the conversation.

         “But,” Les continued, “I won’t skazat another slovo with you unless you promise to do my like bidding. I have viddied you many many times on the TV, oh my brother. I know that you can be like trusted with a story. And because of this, I have asked my brothers to bind their tongues and not skazat one malenky slovo to any of the millicents until I have like told you everything there is to know about our crimes. What you do with the information is not any of my like business, but I would like to know if you decide we deserve to be convicted for very very long.”

       Theora saw Edison narrow his eyes, and she knew he was doubting Les’s authority. Sure enough, the first thing he said was, “It’s a nice sentiment, Les, but either way you look at it, I have no real say in the matter. If your story convinces me to fight for your cause, great, but there’s no getting around the fact that you’ve robbed unsuspecting citizens, defaced public property, and beaten and raped many of our citizens. That kind of rap sheet doesn’t get you an easy time in prison, kid.”

          “All I am trying to skazat,” Les wheedled, “is that you slooshy my side of the story, oh my brother. Think you can do that?”

        Edison nodded. “As long as you don’t try to deny the acts you pulled off. Our eyewitnesses don’t lie.”

        With no introduction, Les launched straight into his story. “My brothers and I come from a mesto across the river. The city is called London.” His light eyebrows arched above his forehead. “I am like convinced you’ve heard of it.”

        “Of course,” Edison said, his tone suggesting that he wished Les would cut to the chase. “It’s our capital. Everyone knows that.”

       Les snorted. “You think!”

       “Why did you decide to leave London and come to our city, Les?” Edison questioned. The boy twisted his hands together, gazing resentfully away as he answered. “It was not a like decision that I made all on my oddy knocky, oh my brother. We were told to go as a group- all of my brothers and I who are now so sadly committed to this vonny mesto known as the Staja.” The flicker in his eye hinted that Les wanted Edison to feel sorry for him, but Edison would have none of it and merely stared into the viewphone, waiting for Les to continue. Finally the boy drew a dramatic sigh from the depths of his lungs and went on with his tale.

       “What I want you to pony, oh my brother, is that we did not like arrive here in your fair city out of our own free will. No! Instead, we were told to come here by a truly like higher authority. He ordered us, and we could not disagree. It is for him and only him that we carry out these meaningless and senseless acts of violence!” The melodramatic tones of Les’s voice made Theora want to laugh. She half expected to see him tremble with passion and throw his hand over his forehead, palm up.

        Edison, however, refused to fall for the weak excuse. “I sincerely doubt that you were brainwashed into acting against your own nature. Come on, Les. Why did you commit such violent crimes?”

         For a moment Les actually shut up, contemplating his words, and although Edison left his reasons for wanting to know unsaid, Theora could guess both of them. For starters, it was clear to anyone who had been watching Edison’s broadcast that none of the boys in the gang were going to get a fair trial in court, and that they would all be convicted. No one else was curious about the boys’ behavior. All that mattered was that they were locked away, their crimes soon forgotten, the horror erased from the public’s memory.

         The second reason, Theora guessed, was simple human curiosity- perhaps more on her part than Edison’s. She wanted to know what would drive Les, who could have been a decent young man under other circumstances, to rape defenseless women and beat innocent people to death. Such actions were a relic of the past, as Edison had just discussed in his broadcast. No modern human with a balanced mind and a TV set would dare to brazenly defy the laws of the city. Was it out of anger that Les attacked- and if so, how could such anger sprout in his mind at a young age? Or did he truly enjoy hurting others? Was it a result of peer pressure from his older brethren?

         At last Les’s mouth twisted into a smirk, and he settled back heavily in his seat, a Metrocop’s rough hand floating nearby to keep him from running. “You are not the first to want to know,” he told Edison, meaningfully side-eyeing the Metrocop. “But you are the first I will tell. All of my droogs, the malchicks I regularly hang out with, began to govoreet one day of a great veck they had slooshied about, who had committed every crime known to man at the age of fifteen. Eventually I met this veck, and he was so like compelling, my brother- so amazing to know that he did all those vesches and was only thrown in the Staja like once! So now that we were all in great great awe of him, my brother, he had the complete power to like control us and tell us to do whatever he wanted and go wherever we wanted.” Suddenly Les grinned a wild grin, shrugging his shoulders. “And the idea was appealing, I suppose.”

       “Okay,” Edison said, setting his hands down in his lap and getting to the crucial question. “Who was this man?” Now Theora could see that Edison had become less interested in trying to possibly clear the names of the teen criminals, and more interested in the man who Les claimed to have compelled him in the first place. He was looking to attack the evil from its source, or at least lead the Metrocops to it.

       “I cannot like give that away, oh my brother,” Les declared in a sing-song voice. “If any of my droogs and I skazat the eemya of our fair leader, he will damn us.”

       “According to the law, the crimes you’ve committed ensure that you’re already damned,” Edison informed Les sternly, his voice tight. “Now tell me his name.”

       Les sighed, as if he’d been expecting Edison to pull that trick, and reluctantly replied. “His name is Alexander Burgess. If you’re looking to find him in the city’s files, you won’t, because he lives in London.” He bent his head, mumbling, “At least you can’t prosecute him…”

           “Excuse me? Why can’t he be prosecuted?” Edison asked, but Les only raised his head to meet Edison’s gaze, staring so hard at him that Theora felt he’d somehow transcended the boundary of the screen.

       “What are you going to do about me?”

          “Prosecution,” Edison said smoothly, standing up. “I’m sorry, Les, but you’re going to have to do some time. There are no laws that condone the murder of innocents.” His hand moved as he prepared to end the conversation, and Les cried out at once, seeing his chance of freedom slip away. “Hey! I thought you were going to help me!” he roared. “I thought you were going to make sure I got free!”

        “I never implied that,” Edison said. “I’m sorry, kid. I would have helped you if you were innocent, but the law is the law.” Theora wasn’t aware that she had inched closer and closer to the viewphone until Les, snarling, leapt at the screen as if he could reach through it to sink his fingernails into Edison’s bare throat. At the sight of the sudden attack, Theora lurched backwards, retreating to the depths of the shadowy control room. Edison glanced briefly at her, and then returned his gaze to the screen as the Metrocop led Les away, the boy still howling in nadsat-talk all the while. A few moments later, the man came back empty-handed and sighed.

        “We’re gonna throw the whole lot in jail by tomorrow. There’s no time for _You The Jury_ \- it’s pretty clear what our citizens would unanimously agree to.” He reached towards the disconnect button on the viewphone. “Thank you for standing by to listen, Mr. Carter. Take care.”

         “There’s one last thing I wanted to know,” Edison said, and the Metrocop sighed, pausing his hand inches away from the disconnect button. “Can’t it wait for tomorrow?”

        “Are you going to follow the crime to London?” asked Edison, his eyes peering inquisitively into the image of the Metrocop’s until they almost seemed to burn holes in the viewphone’s screen. The Metrocop shook his head. “Once the case is solved here, the rest is out of our hands. Now you have a good night.” The screen blinked with a DISCONNECTED symbol, and Edison blinked up at Theora.

        “What did you make of that?” he asked.

        “It’s a lot to take in,” she responded. Behind her, Murray came out of the shadows.

        “I can’t believe they’re going to let the story end there,” Edison said, getting swiftly up from his seat. “Not when there’s another criminal out there causing these boys to harm their fellow citizens and brainwashing them into violence.”

        “Edison, you didn’t seriously believe all of Les’s story…” Theora began.

       He looked up to pierce her with his gaze. “Why would he have given us a name if he were lying? It doesn’t add up…”

         “But chasing a criminal to London is not our concern at the moment,” Murray said, briefly passing a hand across his face. His guard had dropped sometime during the conversation between Les and Edison, and he now looked as if he needed sleep as badly as Edison and Theora did. “Our concern right now is to take the night off and rest. The story’s finished, Edison. The Metrocops will handle any crimes that pop up in London.”

         “But if we’re to prevent this from happening again in our city, this Alexander Burgess from London must be apprehended,” Edison said with a challenging note in his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest, and out of the corner of her eye Theora saw Murray rubbing his temples, unwilling to continue the conversation.

       “Like I said, the London Metrocops will handle it. It’s too late to be arguing about this, Edison. Let’s all just go home.”

        “Here, here,” Theora cried, making for her workstation. Murray gave a slight nod and made for the exit. “Goodnight, team. I’ll see you later. Remember, just because we finished a story tonight doesn’t mean there won’t be any stories to find tomorrow.”

                “Goodnight, Murray,” Theora and Edison called in contrasting tones. Once the producer was out of sight, Theora began clearing her personal belongings from her workstation, while Edison watched behind her back. His voice rang out- “You need any help?”

       “I don’t need someone to walk me home, if that’s what you’re asking,” Theora said, whirling around and pushing past Edison. She threw him a sparkling glance over her shoulder. “No more danger on the streets, thanks to you.”

       “Maybe,” Edison murmured. “Maybe not.” He raised his voice as she walked away. “Goodnight, Theora.”

       “Goodnight, Edison.” Theora pushed her way out the swinging doors and made for the elevator.

                                                                              *

        Back home in her penthouse apartment, Theora took the time to start the electric kettle and change into a fluffy bathrobe with matching slippers before sitting down and watching the one viewphone message she had received all day. Kent’s familiar hooded, sleepy eyes and slicked-back dark hair surfaced on her screen. “Hi, Theora. I watched Network 23’s broadcast tonight and wanted to congratulate you on catching the criminals. I’m sorry I can’t make it to the apartment tonight, but I hope we can set a date later this week. See you then.” The message faded away, and Theora pushed her chair back and sighed.

         It had been too long since she’d seen Kent- so long, in fact, that sometimes she forgot she was even in a relationship. They had been on a couple of dates before the gang crime had risen, and henceforth were forced into communicating through viewphone, because of Theora’s long working hours and Kent’s fear of the criminals. The fact that Theora hadn’t told anyone yet that she was in a relationship also lent it an air of unreality. She didn’t often discuss her private life unless it came up naturally in conversation, which it rarely did. Besides, part of Theora was worried about the reaction at work- namely, what Edison would think. The first time she had accidentally revealed that she was seeing someone, Edison had acted surly and moody around her, seeming not to believe that she would willingly date anyone. Since then, Theora had childishly tried to keep any budding relationships on the down-low, in order not to bruise Edison’s ego. But it wasn’t always easy when the boyfriend gave her presents…

       Theora rose from her seat at the viewphone and went over to her breakfast table, picking up the shiny necklace and holding it before her eyes. It seemed an old-fashioned gift for Kent to give her, but the dangling, glittery charms spoke of his deep affection, even if they weren’t worth much. An odd sentiment rose in her mind- _Diamonds are forever._ She racked her brain to think of where she had heard it before, but drew a blank. Maybe from an ancient poet of some sort.

       No longer afraid of prying eyes, Theora clasped Kent’s present around her neck and fastened it carefully in the back. She rose to look at herself in a nearby mirror, heart thudding for some unknown reason as she turned this way and that, trying to find the best angle to suit her appearance. Up close, the necklace reminded Theora of the cheap trinkets she had worn as an excuse for jewelry during her girlhood days. She frowned the slightest bit, lightly biting her plump lower lip. To wear this necklace was to seal the deal. Anyone would be able to tell from looking at her that she was involved with a man, and intended to keep her relation as such. Kent would surely be pleased- but what would the folks at work think? What would _Edison_ think?

        “Edison can keep his opinions to himself,” Theora muttered, and her words brought on an unconscious smile. Since when had Edison _ever_ kept his opinions to himself? Raising her eyes to the glass, Theora was so stricken with the image of her humored self that she quickly looked away, drawing back from the mirror. If she was ever caught at home laughing over Edison… Theora returned to the kettle and poured its boiling water over the teabag in her mug. She took a brief sip before wincing at its heat and retiring at last to her spacious and comfortable bed, where she channel-surfed while waiting for the tea to cool. Nightly programming was crap more often than not, so after a while Theora started to drift away, her eyelids growing heavy.

        Her last thoughts before the TV lulled her to sleep were of Edison Carter- a forbidden topic during the day, but one that Theora thought of altogether too much at night. Right from the start, Edison had been a bit of a stud around her- his words from their first meeting still surfaced occasionally in her memory; _“How’s your head?” “Fine. How’s yours?”-_ and equally a bit of a mystery. Vanna Smith, Paddy Ashton- those were names that meant more to Edison than Theora would ever be able to figure out. Talking to the evasive Max wouldn’t help, and Theora didn’t want to pry into Edison’s personal life, not after he had done the same to her. After calling him out on it, digging into his files would be hypocritical. But all the same, Theora often wondered who Edison had been, and how he had gotten so far in life.

        Why was she so curious about him? She wasn’t in love with him. She didn’t like him any more than a controller had to like their assigned reporter. They were friends, but only occasionally met outside of work. Why did Theora continue to pursue Edison in her mind? Perhaps it was because of his obvious strong attraction towards her. He had made more innuendo-loaded quips to her than she had ever heard in her life. It wouldn’t have bothered Theora if she were able to believe it was mere joking… but she had seen Edison’s personal dreams flashing on a TV screen, as clear as day, and her face had filled the majority of them. In sleep, no one could trick or delude oneself into believing anything, not even with the help of subliminally-penetrating TV adverts.

        Still, there was the question of whether Edison wanted physical gratification or a true relationship. Theora hadn’t seen him with a romantic partner yet, so she wasn’t sure what his normal behavior was towards girlfriends.

       But why was Theora even thinking of this when she had Kent in her life?

        By this point, Theora had fallen asleep, her mind a confusing tumult of emotions, the mug sliding out of her hand’s loosening grip and the necklace still clasped around her, digging into her skin like ice.


	2. Chapter 2

         The viewphone woke Theora up early in the morning, and she jolted forward, shock dancing through her and then dissolving as if she had spilt last night’s hot tea on herself. Which, Theora discovered as she took stock of her situation and surveyed the bedsheets, it appeared she had. The dark liquid had seeped into her sheets and now left a stain. _Damn…_ Just as Theora was about to get up to retrieve the mug and find something with which to clean her sheets, she noticed that the viewphone was on. She returned to her bedside somewhat reluctantly and took the call, coming face to virtual face with Edison Carter.

       “Hey, Theora,” Edison greeted her, his tone of voice light but tension ringing around his eyes. “I’m sorry if I just woke you up. I’ve been thinking about the story we did last night…”

       “Oh…” Theora mumbled, glancing away as she remembered everything that had happened last night. After discovering where the teenage gangs had made camp and helping the Metrocops catch them, Edison had spoken to one of the incarcerated boys. He’d claimed that the gang’s evil actions had been spurred on by a man living in London, who had sent them to the city across the river to carry out his bidding. Edison had expressed interest in following the story to its root in London, instead of sitting back and letting that city’s Metrocops handle it. He never gave up the job, did he? Theora supposed that this was the result of thinking of crimes solely in terms of news stories. Turning her eyes back to Edison’s expectant face, she replied to him in as clear a tone she could muster, not wanting to appear disorganized.

       “I’m sorry, Edison, I just got up now. It’s been a long week.” Theora gazed placidly into Edison’s inscrutable eyes, wondering what her face was showing. Behind her, she became distinctly aware of the TV blaring. “What is it you were thinking about regarding the story?”

Edison blinked at Theora’s disarray, and inclined his head slightly forward as he spoke. “It’s okay. I’ve just been going over what Les told me last night. Anyone could make a case that he was trying to pin the blame on someone in hopes that he would get away scot free, but it doesn’t make sense why he would bring up another man’s name, if everything else was a lie.”

       “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense,” Theora replied, finally gaining some of her wits about her as the morning fuzziness fell away from her brain. “Who was the man Les mentioned?”

        “He said his name was Alexander Burgess,” Edison told her. “And he said that he lives in London, and that he can’t be prosecuted for his crimes. But I highly doubt that last statement. It’s more likely that Alexander Burgess just can’t be found.” He stared at Theora expectantly, as if waiting for her to ask a question that he could answer and immediately reach the point. Theora gave him that question. “So you want to travel to London, help track down Alexander Burgess, and then cover the story when the Metrocops find him?”

        “Exactly,” Edison said with a smile that bordered on a smirk. “All I need is support from the Metrocops, from you, and from Murray. My dear Theora…” Friendly sarcasm played behind Edison’s voice as he made the proposition. “Will you help me follow this story to London?”

       Theora didn’t bother pointing out that it was Murray’s permission he needed before hers. “Of course I’ll help you out,” she said.

        “Why thank you- I couldn’t pull this off without my very best controller.” Edison waited for Theora to accept the flattery, but she wouldn’t rise to the occasion. Instead, she nodded. “I think we’d better meet down at 23 to talk this over with Murray. I’ll get dressed and see you there in a moment.”

        “All right,” Edison said, starting to get up. “See you, Theora.” Theora moved to flick the viewphone off, but just before she could Edison stopped her with a comment that cut through her sleep-fogged brain. “Hey, nice rocks. Where did you get that necklace?”

        _Rocks?_ Theora confusedly plunged back into a sitting position, and it was then that she felt the cold sting of the necklace, nestled in her chest. She couldn’t resist a peek at it before turning her attention to Edison, the words drying up in her mouth. Unpleasant déjà vu swam through her head as she remembered the morning Edison had caught her by surprise, in bed with the man who was now her ex… She had seen the way his eyes hardened from liquid pools into frozen ones, heard the flat air of disinterest in his voice and felt the coldness radiate from him at work during the day. Though Edison had no right to behave like a jealous boyfriend, upsetting him was not something Theora wished to do again. Especially since it had eventually led to her breakup from the real boyfriend.

       “Oh, it was a present,” Theora said, pretending not to be bothered. “A friend gave it to me.” The gender of said friend would remain unspoken. Edison stared at her chest for a moment more- Theora had half a mind to draw her bathrobe in closer, but Edison would notice and probably joke about it- before nodding slowly and drawling in his pleasantly deep timbre, “Doesn’t look like it cost very much…”

      Theora inhaled, feeling Edison’s sneaking suspicion creep up the back of her spine as if the emotion was hers. He was right to assume it was a boyfriend, but Theora refused to give him any more hints. “They’re just diamonds,” she told Edison coolly, standing up. “If you don’t mind, I have to get dressed.”

        “Mm,” Edison said as Theora stepped out of the view of the phone. “All right, I’ll see you in a few. Bye, Theora.”

       “Goodbye, Edison,” Theora said, and disconnected the call. She stood in place for a while, deliberating on everything they had said to each other, before sighing and walking over to the TV, unfastening and discarding her necklace at the same time. Sometimes she wished that, unlike the viewphone, there was a way to turn the TV off…

         “ _Crunchy Flakes- the breakfast cereal for you!”_ the TV was declaring as Theora closed the blinds of a nearby window and began to undress, when suddenly the falsely cheery voice of the commercial’s announcer was replaced with a telltale stuttering voice. “Good-good-good-good morning, Theora! I hope I’m not- _ahem-_ bothering y-you-ou-ou.”

        “Max!” Theora cried, immediately pulling her bathrobe close and spinning around, clutching her garments tightly in hand. Max only smirked with the full-of-himself air he often shared with Edison, having even less shame than the reporter did. A crazy thought ran across Theora’s mind- that if she had forgotten to cover herself before turning around, Max would tease and torture Edison all day with the claim that he had seen Theora naked.

         Pushing her thoughts aside, Theora ran a free hand through her hair and adapted a stern expression. “This is a surprise. You don’t usually make house calls.”

       “I th-th-thought I’d drop by and s-s-s-see what you’re up to- up to- up to,” Max said, taking an on air of faux innocence. “Don’t w-w-worry, I saw absolutely-lutely-lutely nothing-thing. Not-not-not that I would care an-an-anyway- unlike-like a certain counterpart of m-mine-m-m-mine.” Though Max’s digital face was placid now, Theora could easily imagine him ending his statement in a wink. She sighed and rolled her eyes, turning around. “Thank you for that, Max. Now can you let me dress in peace?”

         “N-n-not unless you ma-a-ake me a p-promise-omise-promise,” Max stated, smug and serious at the same time. Theora halted in her movement- she had been about to tear her bathrobe off, just to shut Max up- and slowly turned around on her heel, failing to hide her irritation. “What is it now?”

         “I-I-I want you to p-p-p-promise me-me-me,” Max began, “that you’ll talk-talk-talk to Ch-Cheviot about g-g-giving-ing me my own sh-show.”

        Theora’s annoyance dissolved into surprise. “Why are you asking _me_ to talk to Cheviot?”

        “Be-Because you’re the only one who’ll listen-ten-ten!” Max exclaimed. “M-M-Murray won’t hel-hel-help m-me. You-you-you saw him l-l-last night-ight. Br-Br-Bryce is always ‘w-w-working-orking-king-’” Theora could practically hear the quotation marks dripping from Max’s speech- “an-an-and Ed-Ed-Edison will think I’m stealing-ealing-stealing his sp-spotlight! It’s-it’s-it’s such a-poor life for a self-self-self respecting g-guy like m-m-me.” Finished, Max let out a resigned huff and drew his head back, gazing challengingly at Theora.

       Theora had never seen Max truly anger, and thus guessed that this outburst was nothing but joking melodrama. However, Max was absolutely serious in his assertions. He wanted his own show, and he believed that Theora was the only person to request it. In response, Theora narrowed her eyes at the TV screen, meeting Max’s challenge with an equally snappy glare.

        “If this is so important, Max, why can’t you ask Cheviot yourself?”

        “Ohhhhh,” Max sighed, sounding fed up. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, or what could be called a ceiling inside of the TV. “I’ve tr-tr-tried that, believe-lieve-lieve me! He g-g-g-got sick of my-my-my demands.” Returning his gaze to Theora, Max tried to give his expression a wounded look, but the effect was unpleasant. “He-he-he actually told me to b-b-bugger off! Off! Off! Can you believe-lieve-lieve it?”

         “Yes, I can,” Theora sighed again, glancing towards the large digital clock by the viewphone. She needed to get going. Max wouldn’t stall her for much longer. Turning around, Theora sashayed over to her dresser and pressed a button that made the doors swing open, asking Max over her shoulder, “Why do you want a show for yourself?”

         Immediately Max launched into a tirade that sounded rehearsed to Theora’s ears, a two-minute rant that encompassed all of his dissatisfaction towards Network 23- how he was growing tired of being thought of as 23’s poster child and always being linked to Edison. Theora, out of Max’s line of vision, tried to keep from laughing as she dressed and listened. When Max was finally done pouting, Theora returned to him, fishing the diamond necklace off the floor. “All right, Max, if that’s how you feel, I’ll try to talk to Cheviot.” Though she was unsure how kindly he would take her interaction, seeing as they had never come face to face before and rarely spoke directly to each other.

         Max’s voice filled with delight. “You w-wi-will?!” he cried out as Theora fastened the necklace around her neck, tersely nodding. “YIPPEE-PEE-PEE!” Theora froze with shock as Max’s televised image spun around in a circle, briefly showing the back of his head. When he was facing the right way again, there was a huge smile plastered to his face that seemed would crack and fall off if it stretched any wider.

          “How did you do that?” Theora asked, referring to Max’s spin.

        “Oh, j-j-j-just one of my many-many-many tricks,” Max beamed. “And now, I’ll k-k-keep my end of the deal-deal.”

        A second before Max could blip off to bother another lonely person, Theora called out to him. “Wait- Max…”

         “Aha-a-a-a! I knew-knew- _knew_ you needed me!” Max cried.

        “I just want to know- is this how Edison feels about Network 23?” Theora asked, her voice sounding less sure of herself than she would have liked it to. “Does he want elbow room like you do?”

         “El-elbow-elbow room?” Max repeated, puzzled, and then launched into a violent, terrifying burst of laughter, one of the most frightening sounds Theora had ever heard and one that she always loathed hearing again. “Ed-Edison leaving Network-Network-Network 23! HAHAHAHAHA! Edison is mar-mar- _married_ to Net-Net-Network 23!” And with that last word of supposed comfort, Max vanished. Theora breathed deeply, collecting her scattered nerves and thanking God that Max had left. At the same time, she wondered why it mattered so much to her to know that Edison wasn’t thinking of pursuing an alternate career. She wouldn’t be out of a job if Edison left, unless the network fell to ruins in his absence, which was a highly unlikely scenario.

        Banishing all thoughts of Edison and Max, Theora was about to turn the knob of her penthouse door when the same tantalizing voice called out from behind her again. “Oh, Theo-o-oraaaa! I al-al-almost forgo-t-t-t to ask-k-k! Wh-wh-where did you get th-th-that necklace?”

        Why the hell did Max care? Theora responded to him in a cold voice. “A friend bought it for me.” She wrenched the door open.

          “A… cer-cer-certain friend?” Max questioned. “A… boyfri-i-iend?”

        Slowly, Theora turned her neck around to face Max, her guard slipping so that Max could read the truth in her eyes.

         “You won’t tell Edison, will you?” she murmured. Max only shrugged his shoulders- which, in essence, were the only part of him besides his face that he could move.

        “Only if y-y-you fail to talk-talk-talk to Ch-Cheviot.”

       Theora exhaled. “I will, Max. I promise.” Max grinned and disappeared from sight, bringing back the morning advertisements.

         _What an eventful morning!_ Who knew that Theora would spend it being blackmailed by an alternate, deranged version of her working partner? She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

                                                                                  *

         “What took you so long?” was the first thing Edison asked Theora as she came into the TV station.

        She gave a rueful smile, though she was slightly irritated that Edison would think she was late, as they hadn’t even agreed on a time to come in. “Max held me up.” Edison gave a short bark of laughter as Theora sat down at her workstation.

         “Just throw a blanket over the TV. That’s what I always do.” Theora felt Edison approaching her from behind, staring over her shoulder as she logged in at the terminal.

          “Yes, but does it stop him talking?” Theora said absently, and Edison backtracked. “Well, no…”

        “There’s no way to shut Max Headroom up,” sounded Murray’s voice as he approached her and Edison, tightly sweeping his way across the floor. “Short of breaking the law and installing an off switch on the TV. I thought you’d have gotten used to it by now.”

          “Do you ever leave this building, Murray?” Edison asked teasingly, turning towards the producer. Theora was oddly grateful for the lack of his attention. She returned her own attention to the computer, fitting in an earpiece and adjusting the microphone close to her mouth.

        “Every few years,” Murray answered dryly. Theora heard the slap of skin on clothing as he clapped Edison’s shoulder. “All right, kids. You set to find and break the next big news story?”

        “Well,” Edison began, and Theora had to force herself to keep fiddling with the monitor, knowing what was coming next. “Not as such.”

         “Not as such?” Murray’s voice was confused. “What do you mean? You’re not still thinking about that story the kid told you last night, are you?”

       Despite herself, Theora wanted to giggle when she heard Murray’s absolutely correct assumption. Edison replied to him evenly. “You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Theora glanced up just in time to see Murray sigh, exasperation filling his face.

        “Edison, I told you last night that the story is over. It’s out of our hands now.” Glancing from face to face, Theora immediately knew that this was going to be another battle to make Edison see what Murray thought of as sense. Being the show’s producer who rarely got his hands dirty, Murray was more concerned with the ratings than a sense of justice, while Edison, being an investigative reporter who had go into the field to find his stories, stayed true to his show’s title by tracking down what he wanted to know. Unfortunately, both were very stubborn men who thought their way was the best. Theora was often left in the dust as she watched Murray and Edison’s arguments from afar.

        “For the people of London, this story isn’t over,” Edison said. “Do you or do you not want to rightfully convict the guilty? It’s not much, but if any of the kids arrested last night are given a trial, information on this Alexander Burgess would be enough to prove that the boys were being compelled to commit their crimes, instead of willingly choosing to hurt innocents.”

         “Last night you told Les that he and his delinquents get what they deserve,” Murray said, his voice tight. “Whose side are you on now?”

       Edison ducked his head. “I know it sounds like I’m changing my mind too quickly. But the point is, while Les and the other boys captured last night are guilty beyond the shadow of a doubt, they’re not the only ones to blame. All I’m asking is to leave for London tonight so that I can try and find Alexander Burgess, discover whether he’s guilty of igniting the gang activity, and bring him to justice if he is. It’d be a nice follow-up to last night’s story, in any case.” He stared defiantly at Murray, daring him to disagree. Theora could see that Murray found it hard to argue with the idea of Edison being the first to jump on a prospective story, but he also remained convinced that the story was fair game to London’s Metrocops and reporters. 

       “Surely you don’t have to go all the way to London to meet this guy-” Murray began.

          “Murray, do you think I could just invite a criminal over here for tea at my house?” Edison interrupted witheringly. “He’s sure to be hiding out in London. I’ll have to go if I want to question him.”

         “How are you going to manage without us in London?” Theora broke in on the conversation, and Edison cracked a smile. “How are _you,_ my dear Theora, going to manage without seeing my face every day?”

        “I swear, sometimes you’re just as egotistical as Max Headroom,” Murray muttered under his breath, obviously vexed. Edison didn’t let it deter his mood as he continued breezily, “Well, it’s only natural for Max and I to have some similarities…” He turned to Theora, his eyes peering inquisitively and hypnotically into hers. “If I’m going to visit London, I’ll need you to come with me to access their city’s mainframe.”

         “Unless there’s another way for you?” Murray spoke up, his gaze lighting on Theora with interest. At once pleased to be the center of attention, Theora let the hint of a smile play around her lips, tempting her audience with her withheld information. After a few seconds, she indulged her coworkers. “I know how to access another city’s mainframe. It’s not a skill that’s easily learned, but it’s occasionally useful.” She twisted around and sat down at her monitor, thrilled to be showing Edison and Murray one of her secret tricks.

        “All one has to do,” Theora explained, as her fingers flew over the metallic typewriter keys and two pairs of eyes watched hungrily, “is trace the city’s satellite signal, and-” With one final stroke of the keyboard, the screen blinked with red text that read ACCESS ALLOWED. Theora glanced up, trying not to look smug. “And there you have it.”

        “Nice,” Edison said in a tone that conveyed deep appreciation, just as he had when Theora had first met him and showed off her skills by hacking a SecuriCam. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and Theora didn’t need to look up to know it was his. “That’s a pretty useful trick.”

       “It will be hard going into this without knowing what the city looks like,” Theora said, studying the monitor’s screen, “but that’s what your camera’s for.” Besides, she had been to London before, a few years ago. The city couldn’t have changed very much.

         “So,” Edison said, “unless you-” his pointed tone was aimed at Murray- “have any objections, it’s all settled. I’ll catch a mag-lev train to London as soon as possible.”

         “I don’t have any objections,” Murray stated, the sound of his voice directly contradicting his statement. “I want to make that clear. I don’t object to your intentions, I’m just not sure if they’re justified.”

        Edison pushed himself away from Theora’s seat and moved in on Murray, his voice both controlled and pleading, and his eyes willing Murray to see his side. “Come on. It’s a story, Murray- it’s the only way we can unearth the root of the evil in our city.”

        Murray held Edison’s sharp gaze levelly, without backing down. No matter how much of a spitfire Edison occasionally grew, he refused to give in to what he saw as an impracticality. “Just make sure it’s the audience you’re gratifying,” he said, “and not yourself.”

         Edison sucked in a breath, knowing that Murray was determined to have the last word, but not about lose ground. He half-smiled and delivered his statement in a chiding tone. “News is not gratification, Murray…” Then, stepping back, Edison went back to Theora’s terminal, turning his attention onto the screen as if he hadn’t said a word to Murray. He knew he had won, but he wasn’t gloating outwardly. Theora stayed silent and virtually traveled down the city streets, familiarizing herself with London’s map via satellite.

         “If you insist on doing this story, make sure you come back with a good one,” Murray warned, but Edison wasn’t listening anymore. When Theora lifted her head from her work to ask him why he was still watching over her shoulder, he broke into a tricky grin, pleased that he had gotten his way.

       “I’ve got to make arrangements for leaving,” he said, straightening up and moving out of Theora’s personal space. “First thing I’ll need is the camera.”

        “It’s in the office,” Murray said without looking at Edison. “Be my guest.”

       “Thanks.” He departed, and Theora raised her eyes to meet Murray’s frustrated, yet triumphant face. “I guess it’s better than no news at all,” he said, and Theora nodded. “Anything is better than no news.”

        She would have turned back to the monitor and absorbed herself in the London mainframe if Murray hadn’t asked apropos of nothing, “Where did you get that necklace, Theora?”

        Theora turned, her hand reaching up to caress Kent’s gift. She had forgotten she was wearing it, but now it seemed to be burning a hole in her skin.

        “A friend gave it to me,” she answered, her voice cool. Theora could understand why Edison might want to know about new pieces of jewelry ( _so that means he notices what I wear every day?_ ), but she didn’t see why Murray would care. As if realizing how awkward his question was, Murray cleared his throat and apologized. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve never seen you wear a piece of jewelry like that before. Are those diamonds?”

        “Just diamonds,” Theora said stiffly. What was the big deal? They could have been glass for all it mattered.

         “You know, diamonds used to be much more expensive than they are now,” Murray murmured, but he said nothing more on the subject, and Theora was glad. Remembering her necklace and Kent, however, also reminded her of the deal she’d made with Max that morning. Glancing at Murray out of the corner of her eye, Theora debated on whether or not she should break her promise to Max and tell Murray what Max wanted, or if she should keep her mouth shut and wait until she had a moment to talk to Cheviot about it. Then she remembered that Murray had a closer connection to Cheviot, being the news producer. If she was ever going to try to persuade Network 23’s president, she would have to ask Murray how to reach him first. And that would mean explaining to him what Max wanted, which most likely would not go over well. Murray wasn’t the biggest fan of Edison’s CGI double. But he was also only person that Max hadn’t mentioned turning him down, so maybe he would take the burden- er, responsibility- out of Theora’s hands.

       Theora turned her back to the monitor and lowered her microphone before saying to Murray, “There’s something I promised… someone that I would talk to you about.”

           “Yes?” Murray said, turning his body and attention back to Theora. “What it is?”

         “Well,” Theora began, and then immediately shut her mouth. One of the screens behind Murray had flickered to life, displaying Max Headroom’s bust against his wonted background of blue with yellow waving lines. Theora nearly forgot what she was going to say, so prepared was she to let Max talk, but to her surprise he simply stared at her, waiting to continue. Theora was slightly disturbed by the realization that when Max was silent, he resembled Edison more than ever.

         “…I was talking with Max this morning,” Theora said, trying to bring her gaze back to Murray’s face, and Max nodded behind him, as if confirming what she was saying. Theora forged ahead. “Do you remember his outburst last night? Everything he said about wanting to be free of Network 23 and getting sick of having to wait around for Edison to finish his broadcasts?”

          “Yes, I remember that bit of melodrama quite well,” Murray said, and over his shoulder Theora saw Max open his mouth, as if to issue a stinging retort. Quickly he remembered where he was and went back to waiting for Theora to broach to subject, although he still looked frustrated. Theora relaxed, taking Max’s silence as a sign that her decision to bring the problem to Murray didn’t bother him. She only hoped the problem wouldn’t bother Murray...

       “This morning Max came to me and told me that he wants his own show,” Theora said. It took a second before the words fully hit Murray. Then his interested expression dropped, and both bemusement and irritation replaced it.

       “And… why did he say that?” Murray asked, his eyes suddenly casting about as if trying to find Max on one of the nearby monitors. Fortunately, he didn’t turn around, and Max sat inside the monitor smirking like the cat that got the cream. Theora wondered if he would thank her for her actions later, but soon decided he wouldn’t. She shook her head.

        “He just wants some… elbow room. He’s tired of everyone paying more attention to Edison rather than him, and he doesn’t want to be thought of as Network 23’s trained dog. Or trained CGI, in this case…” Max nodded sagely behind Murray, agreeing with every one of Theora’s words. Murray’s expression turned into exasperation. Before he could ask why Theora was involving him, Theora explained, “Max asked me this morning if I could talk to Cheviot about it, and I wanted to get your permission…” She could already see in Murray’s eyes that she was fighting a losing battle, and so stepped back to give him a chance to speak.

        “This is ridiculous,” Murray said at once. “Max has more freedom than any of us here. He can appear on whatever channel he wants and can interrupt any program if it so pleases him. Why would he want more publicity? We’ve already got him endorsing that soda and whatever other products Zik-Zak can pin on him…”

        “AHEM-HEM!” Max finally spoke up, and Murray whirled around, visibly frightened by the realization that Max had been listening to the conversation all along.

        “That’s-that’s what k-k-kind of attitude I’m talking-talk-talking about, mister!” he blurted. “I’m not h-here to p-p-p-promote soft drinks! I’m here because people like to s-s-s-see-s-see my win-win-winsome smile.” He briefly displayed it before continuing in harsh tones, “I w-w-want more attention. I d-d- _demand_ more attention! And I-I-I want more people to l-l-love me! But n-n-now I’m standing-anding-st-st-standing in Ed-Ed-Edison’s shadow and it’s not fair!”

         “I guess this settles the question of how much he and Edison are alike,” Murray mumbled out of the side of his mouth, before addressing Max clearly. “Max, it’s not worth throwing a tantrum about-”

            “T-T-T-tantrum?!” Max stuttered. “Ex-ex-excu-u-se me, but I th-th-th-think that I’m being perfectly reasonable-reason-reasonable about this…” Glancing out at his audience, his expression suddenly changed, as if realizing that he was acting too over the top for his words to be believable. Theora, on her part, was no longer amused and just wanted Max to get on with it.

            “Well, o-o-okay,” he sighed, his voice squealing up on octave. “F-F-F-Forget that-that. I just want to be l-l-l-loved for who I am-am-am.” Max hung his head and tried to look dejected, and Murray exchanged a glance with Theora. They both knew that Max would work his hardest to wheedle his way onto their good graces, and wouldn’t stop begging for his own show until he either got it or settled for the second best option- which he already had.

           “Why can’t you ask Cheviot yourself?” Murray asked. Theora answered before Max could say anything. “Cheviot told him to ‘bugger off.’”

           “Well, there you have it,” Murray sighed. “If the idea doesn’t fly with Cheviot, it’s not going to happen.” He then imbued his voice with warm apologetic sincerity to address Max. “You’ve got plenty of attention doing those commercials for Zik-Zak, Max. You don’t need your own show on prime-time TV.”

          Max brightened. “I-I-I wasn’t going to as-ask for a p-p-p-p-prime time slot, but now that you men-men-mention it…”

          “Hey, Max,” called a voice from behind Theora, sounding disturbingly like Max minus the stutter. As soon as Max caught sight of the visitor, his eyes and mouth popped and he cried, “Here’s the big-b-b-big shot reporter n-n-now! I’ll-I-I’ll see _you all_ l-l-later.” The screen went black at last, and Theora and Murray turned to Edison, Theora feeling slightly guilty for ignoring his greetings. Edison crossed his arms and looked from face to face.

        “So,” he said, “Max is getting what he always wanted- more fame and fortune than me.”

        Theora and Murray gave nervous chuckles, and Edison relaxed. He set his camera on Theora’s desk and drew in close, as if he had a secret that he was just dying to share. Theora stood up automatically and moved in.

       “It’s all been settled,” Edison explained to his coworkers. “I just bought a ticket for a round trip to London by mag-lev. The train’s going to leave at two this afternoon. Murray, if you’ll let me leave so that I can pack…”

       “Sure,” Murray said in the resigned tone of a man who knew he’d lost the battle. “Go ahead, take all the time in the world.”

       “Should I remain here until you get to London?” Theora asked. Her fingers reached up to unconsciously massage the diamond necklace around her neck. It appeared that another day would have to pass without her meeting up with Kent. She had no idea how long Edison’s mission in London would last.

       “I’ll need you here at 23, Theora,” Edison said. “Now that you have access to London’s mainframe, would it be possible for you to find Alexander Burgess’s file?”

       “I don’t see why not,” Theora said. “I’ll find it for you.” Her hands moved to the keyboard in front of her, and she typed in the name ALEXANDER BURGESS while Murray and Edison looked on expectantly. Several results came up, and Theora opened the very first file. A man with intense leering blue eyes and an expression somewhere between a smirk and a grimace appeared on the screen, beside his name.

          “The first Alexander Burgess on file is a government worker,” Theora declared. “He has a job at the Gramodisc Archives in London.”

         “That can’t be our seedy criminal,” Murray muttered. However, Theora stopped his doubts by reading more information aloud. “Apparently in his youth he was a very active criminal, and was arrested for murder at the age of fifteen. He was released back into society after undergoing a conditioning treatment that made him loathe violence. The treatment was called the Ludovico process.”

         She looked up, alternating glances between Edison and Murray. “I think we’ve found the right man.”

       “He’s using young teenagers to carry out the violence that he can no longer enact,” Edison stated, sucking in a breath. “Thank you for the information, Theora. I’ve got to go home and pack now. Might have to stay for a day depending on how fast I can the Metropolice to act.”

        “You don’t think it will take that long?” Theora called as Edison turned to leave. He shook his head without looking back. “It shouldn’t take long to drop in on Alexander Burgess. You’ve got his home address right there on the screen. But the London Metrocops might give us a problem. We’re out of our territory, and they might need some convincing.”

         Theora and Murray exchanged a glance- was this really a wise idea? But now Edison was walking away, and Theora had just enough time to call playfully after him, “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to us?”

       Edison turned and began walking backwards. “Goodbye, dear Theora. I _do_ hope you can manage without me.”

        “I’ll be able to see everything your vidicam transmits,” Theora reminded him. “You won’t get away from me that easily, Mr. Carter!”

       “Then there’s no sense in saying goodbye, is there?” Edison shrugged and then turned the other way around, nearly bumping into an employee who was coming through the door. Theora hid her laughter behind her hand as Edison apologized, and just before he walked out completely she called, “Have fun arresting a criminal!”

        “Have fun watching the broadcast!” was Edison’s parting statement, and then he was gone. Murray walked away, sighing, while Theora excused herself to go to the viewphone. There was a vidchat that she needed to arrange.


	3. Chapter 3

         Once secluded at the viewphone, Theora immediately called Kent’s work number. Crossing her legs in front of her, she waited until the screen came alive with his face. A warm, childish thrill zinged through her.

           “Hello, Theora!” Kent announced, and Theora’s lips curved upward into a bright grin. “Hello, Kent. How has your day been?”

          They talked for an hour, poring over the details of their individual days. Kent worked downtown as a car dealer, a job that didn’t fetch a lot of money nowadays, but one that kept him afloat. Theora nodded as he spoke of the drudgery of his workday, picturing his car shop in order to better immerse herself in the story. Edison had once been found in one, unconscious, with a NeuroStim bracelet attached to his wrist.

       “…Well, that’s my day so far,” Kent sighed, with an exaggerated weariness that suggested he was relieved to change the topic of conversation. “I’m grateful for the break. How’s yours so far?” Before Theora could say anything, he suddenly smirked into the viewphone. “Or is the TV business too secretive to talk about?”

        Theora laughed when she would have normally rolled her eyes. “Things are just fine in the TV business. Now that the gang members have been apprehended, Edison is looking for a follow-up story on how they became attracted to evil in the first place.” It seemed an apt summary of hers and Edison’s work that day. She would divulge the details if Kent asked further.

            On the screen, Kent was frowning. “Don’t you think one story on the gang crime is enough? I mean, give us a little while to recover… We don’t want an instant reminder.” At once he seemed to realize that he was talking to Theora, who had no control over Edison’s choice of story, and gave her a crooked, rueful half-smile. “Sorry, Theora… what I mean is, I’m not too sure about the topic, but I’m confident you’ll do well on the job.” Kent’s dark eyes shone with confused light, and Theora knew that he didn’t really understand all the nuances in being a controller. He was simply happy that she enjoyed her job, and he loved trying to unravel the details of a budding story.

            “Edison’s stories are not my ideas,” Theora reminded Kent gently. “I do most of the work involved with a broadcast, but what he presents during the broadcast, and how he presents it, are his decisions.” Catching a trace of unfriendliness on Kent’s face, and baffled as to its cause, Theora decided to change subjects. “Edison’s going to London to work on the follow-up story. It will be our first broadcast from outside the city.” Her voice filled with excitement as she recalled the London of her memory- a city with lights brighter than their own, filled with the thousand voices of babbling TV sets…

         “London?” Kent blurted. “Does that mean you have to go along with him?”

         “Oh, no,” Theora answered swiftly. “I can reach London’s mainframe from the Network 23 monitor. Edison’s the only one who’s traveling.”

       “Oh. That’s good, then.” Kent smiled. “I wouldn’t want to miss you much longer. We have got to see each other in person soon.”

          They chatted about trivial things for a few more minutes, and then they both agreed to end the vidchat and resume their working day.  But just before Theora could disconnect the call, Kent spoke up again. “Wait, Theora… I just noticed-”

         “Yes?” Theora said, her hand hovering above the Disconnect button. She wanted simultaneously to be alone, and to continue speaking with Kent- though she would have preferred a non-virtual conversation.

           Kent cleared his throat. “Have you worn my necklace all day?” Pride gleamed in his voice as his eyes danced across her supple, out-of-reach neck. Theora couldn’t help but sound just as proud and endeared as Kent when she answered.

           “Yes,” she said. “It’s beautiful, Kent. Thank you again for buying it!”

          “You’re welcome,” Kent said automatically. “Did anyone ask you about it?”

         Listening as Kent’s words eagerly sped up, Theora began to catch a clue regarding his interest and his sour tone when she spoke about working with Edison. Could Kent be jealous of the time she spent with Edison? But that was ridiculous… he should know that she wasn’t attracted to Edison. Theirs was purely a working relationship.

           “A few people,” she answered Kent casually. “Why?”

          “I…” Kent leaned forward, so that his beautiful dark eyes filled the screen. Theora was trapped in them, unable to look away. She wanted more than ever for him to be beside her.

           “I wondered if you’ve told people about… us?” Kent breathed, and Theora felt her stomach deflate. _Oh…_

         “I told them the necklace was from a friend,” she said evenly. “I’m not ready to let people know about us.”

        “Why?” Kent said. Hurt flashed from beneath his heavy eyelids, and Theora felt suddenly that she’d put her foot in her mouth.

         “Are you embarrassed about being in a relationship with me?” He was visibly offended, so Theora tried her best to explain.

        “No, it’s not embarrassing,” she said. “It’s just… I prefer not to talk about my personal life at work.”

        Kent paused, and then murmured quietly, “Does it have anything to do with Carter?”

        _Edison,_ Theora corrected him in her head, unwilling to call her friend by his last name. She shook her head, though to say no was a slight fib. “Edison knows that I’m not interested in him, and that doesn’t bother him.” Her words were untrue, but they fell easily from her lips. To reassure Kent, Theora added with a smile, “And I’m not interested in him in that way. You should know that, Kent!” Her teasing tone finally seemed to warm him. He gave her a small smile back.

         “I would never question your loyalty, Theora.” His lips spread farther apart, teeth gleaming, preparing what he was about to say and relishing in the imagined reaction it would cause. “I love you.”

        Theora’s heart skipped a beat and then began to pound more quickly than before. Though many of her past boyfriends’ affections had later proven false, her reaction to those three words would always remain the same. Unlike the first few times a man had told Theora he loved her, there was no awkward deliberation over what she should say next. Theora paused for a moment, letting Kent wait, his insecurity blossoming, before smiling back at him and murmuring, “I love you, too.”

       Kent’s response was the same as any man whom Theora had ever admitted to loving. His eyes and smile widened further, and the viewphone’s microphone picked up the sound of his heavy breathing. He leaned closer the camera as Theora did the same, feeling that they had mutually shared a moment despite their relative isolation. Of course, Theora was not the kind of woman who threw the statement around lightly, but she often tended to date the sort of men who would, and it took nothing out of her to return their sentiments. Otherwise it wasn’t worth losing their relationship. At last Kent signed off, and Theora expelled a breath and turned around in her seat.

        “Is that where you got the necklace from?” Murray asked, gazing staidly down at Theora. She was so startled that she nearly leaped out of her seat. “Murray! How long were you watching?”

        “Not very long,” he replied. “Long enough to notice that you were monopolizing the viewphone by using it to make personal calls at work. Don’t you have work to do?”

         A bit peeved that Murray had called her out, Theora looked down at her hands. “I’m headed to my station right now. I just needed to make sure Kent knew that meeting tonight was out of the question.”

        “Okay,” Murray said. He watched as Theora got to her feet and hurried off back to her terminal. “I’ll let it slide this once. As long as your boyfriend doesn’t get in the way of your work again.”

        “Thank you, Murray,” Theora said. Then a thought flashed into her mind, and she caught his eye. “I know this will sound ridiculous to you, but could you by any chance not mention Kent to Edison?”

        “Why not?” Murray asked.

        Theora brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Because you know as well as I do that Edison isn’t always reasonable about such things. The last time he found out I had a boyfriend, he went snooping in my personal files.”

       Murray nodded, remembering Edison’s sudden change in demeanor, before gently admonishing her. “You know Edison’s going to find out eventually if your relationship continues. I might be intruding here, but I would advise you to be upfront with him. If he acts like a sore loser, too bad for him. He has to realize that just because you’re his controller, you’re not his property.”

       “I’ll keep that in mind,” Theora said. “Thank you again, Murray.” She didn’t mention to him that Edison didn’t want Theora to only be his controller.

       Murray nodded that he was welcome and went to join Theora by her terminal. “By the way, I just contacted Cheviot when you were talking to your… boyfriend, and he expressed a strong desire to keep Max from getting his own show. So that’s that.”

        “That’s th-th-that?!” Max cried, suddenly appearing on Theora’s monitor. “Th-th-th-that’s th-THAT?! I won’t s-s-s-stand for this kind of ig-ig-ignorance and mistreatment! I’ll g-g-get my own show, just you-y-you wait. The M-M-M-Max Headroom Show, p-p-people! You heard it here f-first! Tell all y-y-your friends!” With that he had vanished. Theora couldn’t help grinning in humor up at Murray, who only shook his head.

       “Shame Max can’t follow along with Edison,” he muttered, “or we’d get some peace and quiet for a day.”

                                                                             *

        For Theora, the peace and quiet lasted only as long as Edison was traveling. As soon as Murray left her to her own devices, Theora began to studiously scan London’s mainframe, scoping out every aspect of the large city before Edison arrived, so that she wouldn’t feel as if she were going into her assignment blind. The city’s mainframe gave no clues to what each place might actually look like, but Theora filled in the blanks with her memory of the city and how it related to her own. There was sure to be a section reminiscent of the Fringe, only although people were much worse off in London due to overpopulation. The smell of cooked rat and dog would hang in the air, the dwellings would be makeshift, and every neighbor would stab the other in the back if such an action bettered their situation. And the drinks served in the Fringes would be stronger than anything served inside the city… Those Blanks really knew how to mix, and how to party.

        Theora remembered London’s inner city as dirtier as she had hoped and expected, but the people there were the same- all hooked to TV, mindless slaves to their favorite entertainment programs, while reporters stalked the streets every day to find something amiss. The buildings teetered towards the sky, a million windows lit up at night as if the entire city was ablaze. The enormous conflagration was truly a sight to behold. Out of all of her memories of London, this was Theora’s most vivid.

        Shaking herself out of her memories, Theora sat idly by the monitor, waiting for Edison Carter’s train to reach the station. Fortunately mag-lev trains were much faster than the old-school trains that ran on tracks, having reduced friction by placing the train in the air. Japan had picked up the technology first, and as with everything that Japan used, the whole world was to follow. They were cutting edge innovators, and many of their great companies, such as Zik-Zak, were proud sponsors of the TV networks at which Theora made her living.

       She was so absorbed in exploring London’s mainframe and reminiscing on the times that she had spent in the city that it came as a surprise when Edison’s camera flicked on, restoring her second sight. The vidicam’s transmitted scene was that of a crowded, busy street, jam-packed with moving bodies and vendors of all sorts. To see her vision so perfectly complete brought a gasp to Theora’s throat. Immediately she heard Edison’s deep, gently mocking voice- “Wow, Theora, I didn’t know big cities excited you so.”

       “Yes, nothing like chasing down criminals who work for the government to really turn me on,” Theora murmured. She regained control of herself as the image on the screen moved forward and Edison cut through the flow of people. Although there were sure to be countless reporters on assignment throughout London, possibly too many to count, Theora was sure she could detect frowns and malicious glints in the eyes of the people who Edison passed, as if they were aware he was trespassing on their territory. _Let’s hope he doesn’t meet any fellow reporters,_ she thought to herself. Edison Carter was recognized worldwide as Network 23’s most popular investigative reporter, and if any of the local reporters found him in London they might think he was an unnecessary big shot poaching on their territory.

       Edison turned to move down an alley where he would have more privacy. On the screen, Theora saw a couple more vendors, several TVs blaring at full volume, and a few homeless Fringers, most likely Blanks, huddled under blankets. One of the people who turned their weary eyes Edison’s way had a scrawny, mangy dog with her, who got up to expel one bark at the newcomer before deciding it couldn’t be bothered and lying back down.

        “Hey,” Edison greeted the people in passing. Though they all seemed to see him, and a few probably recognized him, they did not return the greeting. The vidicam’s image moved steadily forward as Edison addressed Theora in a low voice. “Feed me the information, Control. I need to know where Alexander Burgess lives.”

       With ease, Theora pulled up the file that she had discovered regarding the man whom Les claimed to be behind his gang’s activity. “The address isn’t far from here.” She switched over to her view of the mainframe. “You’re going to take a right at the end of the alley…”

        Within a few seconds, Theora had returned to her element as she alternated between describing Edison’s route, and watching his progress on both the map of the streets and his camera’s image. Besides her special link with Edison, seeing and hearing through the and ears of his camera, the second-greatest perk of Theora’s job was the feeling of satisfaction when her reporter arrived at the correct destination, or when she successfully prevented him from being caught or injured thanks to a clever surveillance sweep of the location. If it wasn’t for both perks, Theora didn’t think she would enjoy being a controller at all. Although it was one of the most important occupations a civilian could have, as the investigative news genre became more and more popular on TV…

        “And… I think we’re here,” Edison announced as he came to the foot of a small building, a gray cement box with only one story and a TV dutifully stationed on the sidewalk right outside. Theora blinked in surprise. The building was evenly spaced between its neighbors, instead of being crammed into a small space with no breathing room, and it even had what passed as a front lawn, although it only extended outward for a few meters and was made of concrete and asphalt instead of grass. Still, the sight of the dwelling was shocking. Theora murmured into her microphone, “Alexander Burgess lives in a house?” She had seen Edison turn down a road into a residential neighborhood, but somehow she hadn’t believed that London truly had such things. It had been a very long time since Theora had actually seen a house.

        Though Edison’s body language was out of sight, Theora got the feeling that he was shrugging as he spoke. “Hey, his file says he works for the government. He can afford the luxuries.” With that, Edison headed up towards the house’s front door, and Theora released a pent-up breath. “Weren’t you going to call in London Metrocops with you?”

        The image paused at the door. “I don’t want them with me right away. Staging an arrest would be too high profile for a government employee with a criminal past. Besides, I want to give him a chance to speak first. If I bring the Metrocops around, he’ll be on his guard in an instant.”

        Theora nodded at this reasoning, though she knew that Edison couldn’t see her. “Good luck.”

       Edison’s hand appeared on the screen, reaching out to buzz the doorbell. After a few suspenseful seconds, the door swung wide open, and Theora and Edison came face to face with ex-criminal Alexander Burgess, staring at Edison with a mixture of blurred recognition and subdued resentment.

                                                                        *

         Alex had just made a cup of tea and popped a disc into the music player when he heard the doorbell sound across the house. He growled under his breath in irritation, setting the cup down and staring loathingly at it. If only he had some drencrom or synthemesc to add to the brew and make it taste just like the milk from old times… but he had to be careful of himself. He couldn’t allow things to get out of hand like they had so many years ago. Though he was in the strong favor of the Minister of the Interior and was well-respected for his work at the Gramodisc Archives, there was still no way that he could go romping about on the streets with his droogs like he had when he was fifteen. Alex abandoned his tea in favor of answering the door, reluctantly switching off the music player on the way. Beethoven’s magnificent Fifth Symphony disappeared in thin air, leaving nothing but the blare of the hated television in its place. No matter how much Alex enjoyed lovely Ludwig Van, he didn’t want to shout over him in order to converse with a stranger on his doorstep.

        He gave his outward appearance little thought before he opened the door wide. He had been in this position for long enough that keeping up the act was second nature. But as soon as the door opened, Alex began to reconsider his efforts to stay on his best behavior. The man who had come to pay him a visit was from the looks of it one of those popular reporters whose name Alex had forgotten, complete with a vidicam on his shoulder. His clothing was drab- _he must be undercover-_ and his expression was serious, his strong jaw set firmly in place and bright blue eyes boring straight into Alex. “Hello. I’m Edison Carter from the global TV Network 23. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

          Theora, watching Alexander Burgess through Edison’s eyes, wasn’t sure what to think of him. He wore a gray, conservative suit and his dirty blond hair was well-groomed. Composure slowly replaced the confusion in his luminous blue eyes, his body language the picture of formality. Nothing about the man suggested that he had been up to nefarious activities in his past and in his spare time.

        Once Alex heard Edison’s statement- _“I’m here to ask you a few questions-“_ it was all he could do to keep from narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Edison Carter… He had heard the name before. Certainly he had heard of Network 23, try as he might to ignore the TV’s constant ‘round the clock broadcasts.  His first impression was correct. This Carter fellow was a reporter who was either interested in Alex’s past as a criminal undergoing the Ludovico treatment, or more likely, judging from the slight tension in his eyes, one of Alex’s droogs across the river had tipped him off. When Alex realized that this assumption must be true- he didn’t keep up with such things, but he was fairly certain that Edison didn’t live in London- he had to struggle to remain civil. How could those young boys have cracked so easily? Alex hadn’t been nearly as foolish when he was their age…

        “Ah, you are, are you?” Alex said, his voice containing no traces of his seething anger towards the boys who had failed him. He would show the reporter that there was nothing to fear about him by lying as beautifully as he could, and then sending him on his way. During the course of the conversation, he would also have to discover what had happened to the boys in the first place. Maybe sometime later, if he could get at them, he would show them what for. Alex grinned at Edison, and offered his hand. “Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Alexander Burgess. You can call me Alex.”

        “I know who you are,” Edison said passively, shifting his vidicam to the left shoulder so that he could shake hands with Alex. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I come in?”

       Alex nodded and darted back inside, holding the door open as Edison walked through.

       Back at 23’s headquarters, Theora surveyed the scenery on her screen. The inside of Alex’s abode wasn’t as simplistic as its exterior. A thick plush carpet covered the floor, with a disc-player and two enormous speakers pressed again one wall and several red chairs of the latest style facing a TV set on the other wall. There was a doorframe at the end of the room, which Theora speculated to be the entrance to a kitchen. The walls were white and covered with what had once been called “modern” art. As with Alex’s personal appearance, nothing inside the house suggested that Les’s accusations were true.

         “Would you like any tea?” Alex asked his guest, despising the convivial tone of his voice. He wished he could just tell Carter to get the sod out of his home, but he knew it couldn’t be done.

       “No, thank you,” Edison replied coolly. “May I take a seat?”

       “But of course.” Alex went into the kitchen to gather both his tea and his wits, and Theora took the opportunity of his brief absence to whisper to Edison as if he were standing right beside her. “It doesn’t seem to be the home of a murderer by proxy.”

       “I’m certain he’s hiding something,” Edison muttered, taking a seat in one of the oddly-built red chairs. Just then Alex returned, a cup of tea in hand. He smiled brightly at Edison, seemingly unworried about the presence of the vidicam between them. “So what have you to ask me?” he said as he sat easily down beside Edison.

        Edison, ever the professional, refused to allow Alex’s mood to lull him and throw him off. “Alex, have you ever met a boy named Les Woods?”

        “Les Woods?” Alex’s brow furrowed, but not to the extent that it indicated suspicion. Every part of him concentrated on giving a convincing performance, exercising his skills at lying that had always come so naturally. “I… I don’t think so.”

          “No?” A hint of a threat lay beneath Edison’s voice. “If you haven’t heard of Les, how about Paul Shields? Or Dave Gray?” Theora was surprised. Edison had done his research on the delinquent boys from London.

          A small frown appeared on Alex’s lips, and he shook his head slightly. “Should I recognize those names?”

         “According to Les, you should,” Edison said. “These are the names of several teenaged boys who, along with many others, have been terrorizing the citizens of my city for weeks on end. They were only just arrested yesterday. Les Woods claims that you are the mastermind behind their reign of terror. He said that you incited their violence and sent them across the river to do your dirty work. Is this true, Alex?”

          Theora could have applauded Edison for his way with words. Alex’s heart plummeted to his stomach like a stone, though his expression betrayed no emotion. He knew exactly who Edison was talking about. That damn Les. He had always seemed a little different to Alex, less inclined to go along with the rules the droogs had made for themselves. It was no wonder that he was the one to give away their secrets at last, though Alex had tried time and time again to drill the top rule into his head- _never sell out your closest droogs_.

       _I’ll get you for this later, oh my brother,_ Alex mentally hissed. _Our pact from now on is like over._

Aloud, he took his time before replying, “I’m sure you’ve made a mistake. If he mentioned an Alexander Burgess, it wasn’t me, or he was using my name as a cruel joke.” _Yech._ After speaking so formally, Alex longed to rinse his mouth out. He took a sip of warm tea and steeled his nerves for more mental humiliation.

       “What sort of cruel joke would this be?” Edison said. “Why use your name specifically, Alex?”

        Ah, here it was. Alex was in familiar territory now, and he was ready to answer. “Oh, I take it you haven’t learned anything about me besides my name and address,” he stated regretfully, fighting an apologetic smile. That would be rather over the top. “I used to be quite an… upstart in my younger days. I committed nearly every crime in the book, but I regret them all now, thanks to the wonderful Ludovico treatment that the men in the prison bestowed on me.” The words coming out of Alex’s mouth were so unlike him that his subconscious had to step back and stare in disbelief. Why was he endorsing the horrible, grahzny Ludovico treatment? He had hated it to the very bottom of his soul…

       Edison inclined his head as if waiting for Alex to go on, and emboldened by this, he continued with a flourish. “The treatment made me unable to commit violence against anyone. This was so at odds with my previous nature that I tried to off myself, but fortunately fate intervened and I survived to come to terms with this treatment. I can’t even think of violence nowadays without feeling sickened.” _Oh, how untrue that is._ Alex paused. “I’m sure the boys were merely playing a joke on you, taking advantage of your lack of knowledge about me to send you on a wild goose chase. My name is very well-known among the youths of London, due to my unfortunate reputation, but of course a man from out of town wouldn’t know that. I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere if you want answers to your questions.”

       “Are you sure you didn’t compel these boys to travel to the city and carry out the violence that you yourself are no longer able to commit?” Edison asked softly, not missing a beat.

        Alex arched his eyebrows in apparent surprise. “I tell you, I have no interest in violence anymore. I’m sorry that I can’t help you further.” He stood up, eager to get Carter out of his house right away. “If you’ll excuse me…” He hurried out of the room on the pretense of putting his empty teacup away in the automatic dishwasher, but in truth he wanted to vent his frustration over Les’ incompetence in a separate room.

         Though Theora wasn’t physically in the same location as Edison, she felt as if he were right in front of her when he turned the camera onto his own rugged face. “I guess Les’ lead was a dead end,” he said, sighing.

        “Alex doesn’t seem to pose a threat to anyone,” Theora stated. “And because he’s under government protection, it would be hard to arrest him even if he could prove his guilt.” Was that what Les had meant by _unable to prosecute…?_ “Looks like you wasted a trip to London, Edison.”

        “Aw, I’ll be able to make the most of it before I go,” Edison said distractedly, his eyes flickering away from the vidicam. “What was that you said about government protection…?”

        At that moment Alex entered the room again, empty-handed, to find his unwanted guest talking to his camera. He cleared his throat, and Edison turned the camera around and slid it under his arm. “Thank you for letting me in,” he said, rising from his seat and offering his hand. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

        “You’re welcome, and it’s no big deal,” Alex said, forcing warmth into his voice. “Good luck on finding the real criminals behind this case.” They shook each other’s hands, and then Edison turned away.

        “I don’t think there are any real criminals besides the boys,” Edison called over his shoulder as he made his way to the door. Just as Alex was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Edison’s words caught him by the heel. He’d proven his false innocence so thoroughly, so _perfectly._ It was almost too easy. The shades of an idea that had come to him in solitude hit him full force between the eyes.

        Though there was nothing Alex wanted more than to get Carter out, he couldn’t help but call him back. “Oh- Edison! Mr. Carter…”

        Edison swung back around, one hand on the doorknob, his eyes blazing expectantly. “Yes?”

        “I’m very curious in your line of work,” Alex said, trying to sound genuinely interested. “And I’ve never been to your city before. I was wondering if I could take a train with you to observe your working conditions at Network 23.” The plan was so great, he couldn’t have thought of a better one. Once in the city, he would have his revenge on Les for selling him out, while at the same time he could amass a new group of droogs and attack the city directly from the inside. Once his mind was made up, there was no turning back.

        _That was sudden,_ Theora thought, closely watching Alex’s face. If he had any ulterior motives for wanting to go to the city, she couldn’t decipher them. But it seemed unlikely that this was a snap decision. He must have been planning to visit the city for a while now.

       Edison’s eyebrows mushed together. “If your job will let you take a holiday, I don’t see why you can’t go…”

       Alex saw that Edison was clearly wondering why this had come up so suddenly, and attempted to forge a new lie by means of explanation. “I’m on a break from work right now, as a matter of fact-” thanks to the flexibility of his job, a holiday could be easily arranged- “and for a while I’ve considered traveling across the river myself. Your arrival here strikes me as the perfect opportunity, and perfect timing now that you’ve caught those criminals. The city’s sure to be a lot safer without them now.” He could have laughed. He was one of those very criminals, or had been- what did he care about safety? In his former line of work, there had only been one safety- that of not being loveted, or caught.

       “Well- if you really want to come, go ahead,” Edison said slowly, obviously still confused, but the emotion was fading from his voice. “You don’t need my permission to travel. Do you need to pack anything before you leave?”

       “Most likely,” Alex said, although he wasn’t sure how long he was going to stay in the city, or what to bring that he couldn’t steal. “If you don’t mind, I suppose I had better pack now. You can wait for me outside.” Turning away, Alex disappeared through a nearby door, and Edison stepped outside and hauled the camera up to his face.

          “What was this you mentioned about government protection, Theora?”

        “I-“ Theora couldn’t remember what she had said before. “Edison, do you think Alex is to be trusted?”

        This time she could see his shrug. “If he was lying to us, he gave a damn convincing performance.”

       Theora nodded. “I guess I’ll just have to meet him for myself.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter depicts a rape scene, as warned about in the tags. The act itself is not described, but everything leading up to it is. 
> 
> Please note that nothing about this is meant to be portrayed positively. Although I'm a fan of A Clockwork Orange, I find Alex to be a completely despicable character and I don't condone anything he does. If I had been writing this more recently, I likely would have used a different character as his victim, too. But it is what it is, and I believe the story still has merits despite my distaste for it.

        Once Theora had explained to Murray that Edison was bringing Alex Burgess back to Network 23 with him, the producer was incredulous. “Edison goes to capture a criminal and ends up befriending him?” He shook his head. “I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

       “Alex claims it was all a ‘wild goose chase,’” Theora said carefully, trying not to voice the statement as an opinion. She wasn’t sure yet if Alex was lying or not, but an instinct in her gut told her he had been lying about _something._ “And Edison didn’t invite him. He invited himself. If Edison trusted him enough to say yes to him, by all means he knows what he’s doing.”

        Murray only looked at the floor, muttering indistinctly, before clearly addressing Theora. “So what happens when they get back?”

       “I don’t know,” Theora said, turning her attention to the monitor beside her. She took care to switch from London’s mainframe to her home city’s, before glancing at Murray again. “Edison turned his camera off after Alex had finished packing. I think Edison’s going to check in with us upon returning, and Alex will head to a hotel. He’ll receive a complete tour of Network 23 tomorrow.”

        “This Alex- he’s not in the TV business, is he?” Murray asked, scratching his head.

         Theora shook her head. “No, Murray. I thought you were here when we went over this.” He shrugged, which Theora took as a sign to recite from Alex’s personal file. “He works for the Gramodisc Archive in London. He’s a music archivist and is in charge of categorizing discs and keeping them in good condition.”

        “Pretty lofty job for a guy who once killed someone,” Murray commented. Theora sighed. “He claims to be done with violence now, thanks to the Ludovico treatment. I don’t think it’s fair for you to immediately assume that just because Alex has a criminal record, he-”

         “What do you know about this Ludovico treatment?” Murray interrupted. Theora swiveled her seat around to raise her eyebrows at him. “Murray, you’re sounding like Edison now.”

        “I guess it’s more his business than mine,” Murray amended, looking away. “I’m just interested. I’ve never heard of it before.”

        “When Alex arrives tomorrow, you can ask him all about it,” Theora soothed, looking back at her monitor. She was bursting with excitement, both at the thought of meeting Alex and seeing Edison again, though she had basically done both while controlling Edison in London. “Do you think you’ll need me here for the rest of the night?”

        “Just stay until Edison comes back,” Murray advised, his mind already turning to other matters. “We’ll take it from there. See if he needs you for anything else.”

        “Thank you,” Theora said, reminding herself of how important the work of a producer was. Murray shrugged and turned away. “Tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder, “besides giving Alex a tour, Edison’s going back in the field on assignment, now that this story’s been wrapped up. Just giving you a head’s up.”

        “I hope Network 23 will be presentable,” Theora joked under her breath, and Murray wasn’t far enough away that he didn’t chuckle himself.

                                                                             *

         Alex was elated as he stepped off of the mag-lev train and surveyed the bustling station around him. He couldn’t care less that a reporter had accompanied him on the trip and was watching his every move. It suddenly felt as if his life were back on track. Of course Alex enjoyed his job at the Gramodisc Archives, especially because he was allowed to take a disc home for himself every night. But music was only second in Alex’s list of pleasures to ultraviolence and the nightly activities he had once enjoyed with his droogs. To be locked inside his house in London, knowing the teenagers outside were partaking in such activities and having the time of their lives, was nearly intolerable. Living through the boys whom Edison indirectly claimed he had corrupted had sounded fun in theory, but Alex had been greatly disappointed that he was unable to see their deeds for himself. Edison’s arrival was almost a blessing, granting Alex yet another new lease on life. 

        Inhaling the stale air of the train station, Alex was about to briskly walk off, heading towards the stairs. Before he took his first step, though, someone’s hand clapped him on the shoulder. Alex looked up, startled- for a second he had thought the hand belonged to a Metrocop, about to arrest him. Instead he found himself staring into the face of his traveling partner, Edison Carter, who looked positively jovial to be back from his day trip. They hadn’t exchanged many words during the trip, and Alex had hoped that Edison would leave him alone once they arrived in the city. However, it appeared personal luck was not on his side- as if it ever was!- as Edison let go of Alex’s shoulder. “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to work out where you’re going to stay for the night?”

        “No,” Alex replied politely. Inside he was dying to get away. _You, oh my brother, are really like pushing it._ “Do you know of the best hotels in the area?”

       Edison strode forward, and quickly Alex caught up to him. They began walking side by side, pushing through the endless throng of people. Alex seethed on the inside and tried to keep his temper in control. He only needed Carter to answer his question, and then he was free to escape.

        “There’s the Snooki,” Edison said ponderingly, “and the Paris Hilton Hotel I’ve heard is considered one of the finest in the country.”

        Alex let out a chuckle. “In the country! Now that’s a hard feat to accomplish.” _Oh, spare me the small talk!_

Edison grinned wryly. “Yeah, but you know it’s the role of adverts to talk up their products as much as possible. Personally, I think it’s all a load of hot air.”

        Together they exited the train station and Edison helped Alex carry his bag to the sidewalk, where he stood to wait for a ride. There was no taxi service in Edison’s city, unlike in London, but Alex had convinced Edison that he was alright with hitching a lift. Edison was skeptical that Alex, an employee of the government in a high position of status, would want to rough it all the way to his hotel, but he soon relented thanks to Alex’s charisma. “Just call me on the nearest viewphone if you get stuck out here,” he said, before relaying his address and number to Alex. “The Fringes can be pretty rough at night.”

          Alex squinted as he looked away down the street. _Don’t I ever know that._ “Thank you,” he said, turning his head back to smile infuriatingly at Edison. “I’ll meet up with you tomorrow.”

        “Have a good night,” Edison said. He turned around and began to walk away. As soon as he was out of sight, Alex grinned again, this time more widely and mischievously. He shouldered his bag and began to head in the opposite direction down the sidewalk, immensely enjoying his newfound freedom. It was a pity he had made arrangements for a tour of Network 23 the next day, or he would have completely cut loose from his obligations and readied himself for a night of ultraviolence.

          _Soon, oh my brother,_ Alex’s mind calmed himself down. _Soon you will be able to live and love life again._

                                                              *

       “I can’t go out in the field tomorrow! I promised Alex I’d give him a tour!”

       Only from Edison’s mouth would one hear such words, Theora reflected from behind her monitor. And only Edison would pick an argument with Murray as soon as he returned from a day trip to London. Theora had just barely greeted the flesh-and-blood Edison with a warm one-second hug before Murray had waltzed in and informed Edison of his plans to send him on assignment the next day. The rest of the argument followed naturally.

       Theora snuck a peek at the two men who stood in action before her, recognizing the familiar scene. Edison was animated, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, as if physically trying to impose his point on Murray’s brain. Murray, on the other hand, stood motionless, his arms resolutely crossed. He knew as well as Theora did that he would win this one, and Theora pitied Edison’s loss, knowing that he would remember it for another day in the constant battle of wits.

        “You promised Alex a tour,” Murray repeated, his voice unwavering. “That doesn’t necessarily mean that you alone have to show him around. Isn’t your job more important?”

       “My job is very important to me, Murray,” Edison said. He spoke with such depth that Theora would have figured even if she hadn’t instinctively known already that the sentence was an understatement. “But it’s not every day you get a government employee from London in here… It could be good publicity.”

        Murray, aware that Edison was sidestepping the real problem by not mentioning himself, said, “As Theora tells me, Alex is an employee from the Gramodisc Archives. The preservation of music might be important, but it’s not the TV business, and is therefore relegated to a lower agenda.” Edison tried to interrupt, but ended up staring at the floor as Murray continued, “Furthermore, you’re going to need a follow-up to the last story you covered, now that Les’s claims have turned out to be false. I’ll get someone else here to show Alex around when he arrives tomorrow. Matter of fact, I’m willing to do it myself. You need to go ahead and get back out there.”

       From her vantage point by the monitor, Theora saw the tension drain from Edison’s shoulders, and she briefly wondered if half the time Edison only argued with Murray for the sake of arguing. This had been nothing more than a skirmish, compared to such past melees.

         “All right,” Edison finally relented, raising his eyes to meet Murray’s face. “Just make sure you don’t brush him off. He’s really very interested about the place- we talked about it a lot as he was getting ready to leave.”

        “Thank you, Edison,” Murray said. With that, the aura of the room was restored to normality. Edison nodded- “Thank _you,_ Murray-” and smirked before heading for the door. Theora took this as her cue to stand up and begin gathering her personal items. She couldn’t wait for the next day to meet Alex Burgess, and to get back on track with Edison. Hopefully they would get more of a chance to talk soon.

                                                                        *

       The next morning Theora met Kent for a quick breakfast downtown. As soon as he stepped into the fashionable café, a smile split her face. She waved so that his scanning eyes caught the table at which she was sitting, and with a flourish he moved across the floor and into the seat across from her. “Theora!” She closed her eyes as Kent leaned in to give her a peck on the lips, then opened them to watch as he settled back in his seat and smiled at her. “How are things?”

        “Things are great,” Theora replied, waving off a waitress who stepped in to flash a gleaming smile at Kent. “It’s fine, we’ve already ordered.” Returning her gaze to Kent, Theora found that he was visibly impressed. “You remembered how I take my coffee?”

        “With Splenda and powdered milk!” Theora laughed cheerily. “It might explain why you’re so sweet.” She would have cringed outwardly at her statement- she had meant to gently rib Kent for being “soft”- but Kent smiled and chuckled, his eyes flashing at the compliment, and Theora decided she could let it slide.

        “And how, dear Theora, do you take yours?” The term of endearment flustered Theora for a moment. “Dear” was usually reserved for Edison when he was feeling like a flirty tease. Quickly, Theora covered her internal thoughts and raised her mug with a smirk. “Black coffee- no more, no less.” Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “I can’t believe you didn’t remember!”

         “Hey,” Kent began in a hurt tone, “it’s not my fault you have an exceptionally good memory.”

        Theora laughed and pushed a tray of biscuits in front of Kent. “Eat up!”

        They enjoyed their breakfast in companionable silence, before Kent asked Theora how the trip to London the day before had gone. “Did you catch the bloke behind all the riots?” Theora imagined that Kent was picturing  Theora herself going down to London, rather than Edison, even though he knew it was the other way around.

        Swallowing her bite of the last biscuit, Theora leaned forward. “It turns out Alex Burgess was a dead end. The boy who told us he was involved was hoping we’d pin the blame on someone else, in order to prove himself innocent.” She wondered if she should mention that Alex had been a criminal in his youth, but decided against it. It would make her next words more disturbing for Kent to hear. “He’s dropping by Network 23 today, I guess as an apology for going after the wrong man.” Kent’s eyes widened from across the table.

        “Theora, I hate to say this but… how do you know for sure he’s innocent, that the kid Carter talked to really was lying?” Kent leaned significantly towards Theora as he spoke, and his proximity at once made her feel safe but crowded.

        Knowing he expected a quick response, Theora sighed and tapped her fingernail against her warm mug of coffee. “Alex was very convincing during yesterday’s interview, and he sounded sincere. Besides-” For a second she hesitated, not sure if the following information was something that she should divulge to an outsider who didn’t have access to Alex’s personal files, but she decided it was all right as long as her admission was vague. “Besides, there’s absolutely no danger. He’s been… medically reformed.”

       “Medically reformed?” Shock pierced Kent’s voice. “What do you-”

       “I don’t think it’s right to reveal any further personal information,” Theora cut in quickly. “I learned everything from Alex Burgess’s files in the London mainframe. I shouldn’t tell you anything confidential.” Sometimes it was hard for Theora to remember that not everyone was permitted such special access. She finished her statement with a conviction. “Kent, there’s no need for you to worry about me.”

       “But I can’t help but worry,” Kent murmured, although he leaned back in his chair, indicating that he felt calmer. “You’re always on my mind, Theora, even when I’m working at the garage. I wish I could see you more often.”

      Theora nodded, even though she felt that this conversation was awfully similar to one they had had the day before. “I’ll be fine,” she mindlessly assured him. “Trust me.”

       Kent blinked, and a smile unfolded on his face. “I already do.”

                                                                         *

       Edison was nowhere in sight by the time Theora arrived at Network 23, which was a surprise. Even more of a surprise, though, was the unfamiliar man hovering around her personal terminal with a look of both intense interest and mild confusion on his face. Theora scanned the room to see if she could find Murray anywhere, but he wasn’t around- presumably he was hiding in the office. She walked down the aisle created by the rows of terminals and TVs towards the strange man, hearing whispers rise and fall from various workstations around the room. Something was definitely up; the room was abuzz with nervous energy.

       “Hello,” Theora greeted the man, and as his head snapped up she realized he was Alex Burgess. “Mr. Burgess, isn’t it?” He blinked slowly as she approached, her hand out, before taking and distractedly squeezing it. Up close, Theora could see that Alex’s bright blue eyes were edgy and calculating. They seemed at once innocent and ruthless, and on top of that impenetrable. His close-lipped smile struck her as friendly, but the blue circles above it gave no indication whatsoever as to his thoughts. A tiny shudder involuntarily passed through Theora as she stepped away from Alex.

       “Hello…?” He gestured slightly with his hand, as if trying to place her name.

        “My name is Theora Jones,” Theora introduced herself. “I’m Edison’s controller.” Then, reading Alex’s confusion, she explained- “It’s my job to watch through Edison’s camera when he’s out in the field. I inform him on the people he’s interviewing, direct him on the best route to reach his location, and generally ensure his broadcasts run smoothly.” She smiled, and after a split second Alex smiled back, more deeply and broadly than before. He also showed his teeth, one of which was chipped. Grinning, he looked more like a wild young boy than the respectable man he was. It made the suit he wore appear slightly ill-fitting.

        “That’s all very interesting,” Alex said, taking a step towards Theora. “I haven’t seen Edison yet today, but I’m very excited to tour this building.” He winked, so quickly that Theora wasn’t sure if he actually had or not, and came closer. “Especially if you’re the one offering.”

        Theora backed away and sat down, a little flustered. “I don’t think so,” she replied, turning on her monitor. “Edison will need me for most of the day.”

       “Alexander Burgess!” a familiar voice cried out. Theora and Alex both glanced upwards to see Murray hastening towards them, smoothing out the frazzled look on his face and covering it with a grin. “It’s great to meet you.” Coming close, he held out his hand, and Alex politely took it, letting Murray shake him heartily. “I’m Murray, the producer of Edison Carter’s TV show. It’s an honor to have you here.”

        “The pleasure is mine,” Alex said, slipping his hand out of Murray’s grasp and subtly wiping his palm on his dress pants. Theora could only guess that Murray was nervously sweating. She intruded upon their looming conversation. “Have you seen Edison around this morning?”

       “Now you have!” called another familiar voice, rapidly approaching Theora’s workstation. Theora smiled to see Edison make his entrance.

       “I’m sorry I’m late; I had some important business to attend to.”

       “Let me guess,” said Theora. “Your alarm didn’t go off?”

       Edison gave her a dark, yet harmless stare. “Your guess would be… close to correct.”

        “So you dawdled on your way over?” Theora teased.

        Edison laughed and sidled up next to Alex, who stared at him oddly. “In my line of work, ‘dawdling’ is out of the question.” He set his hand on Alex’s shoulder, where Theora’s eyes stayed glued. “Hey, Alex, good to see you. I take it Theora and Murray have already introduced themselves?”

       “That we have,” Theora said, and Murray chuckled dryly. “One big happy Network 23 family.”

        “H-h-hey!” cried yet another new voice, and all four people turned around (Alex shaking off Edison’s hand in the process) to see Max Headroom onscreen, peering at his audience like the diva he was.

        “You can’t-c-c-can’t call yourself a f-f-family without introducing me!” Max blinked, staring in Alex’s direction. Before anyone could speak, he declared, “Who’s the guy in the s-s-suit?”

         “What in Bog’s name…” Alex muttered under his breath, his eyes wide. He stared at Max with pure, raw shock.

       “Alex, this is Max,” Edison introduced him. “He’s a part of me, I should say.”

         “The b-better half.” Max grinned broadly. “And who-who-who am I talking to?”

        “The name is Alex- Alex Burgess,” Alex said smoothly, his shock beginning to dissipate, but Theora could see that he was wondering very much about the CGI onscreen. His hand slipped into his pocket and appeared to close around an object within as his eyes brooded. “I’m an employee at the Gramodisc Archives, on a day trip.”

       “Max was created by our head of technological research, Bryce Lynch,” Edison explained. “He was trying to steal information from my brain and downloaded Max as a program while I was unconscious. Now he’s here to stay, and we’ve had to learn to live with him.” He gave a smile that held hints of a grimace and rapped on the TV screen with his knuckles.

        Alex narrowed his eyes, peering more intently at Max, as if he were staring straight through him. “How very… interesting…”

       “S-s-s-sorry I can’t stay for long-long,” Max declared breezily. “In-in fact, you-y-y-you reminded me that I’ve got a d-d-date with Bryce down-d-d-downstairs. He w-w-wanted me for something-thing or other… So goodbye-good-goodbye! Parting is such a sweet-s-sweet sorrow…” He appeared to blow a kiss to his general audience before winking out of existence, whisked away to another screen and another human to bother.

       “Well, now you’ve met everyone,” Edison said. “I’m sorry to inform you that I can’t personally show you around today…”

        “Why not?” Alex asked, turning away from the screen that Max had inhabited. Theora thought for a moment that she detected mistrust in his eyes, but it disappeared in a second. However, his body language sent out unpleasant signals, from the way his arms suddenly crossed to the frown on his lips. A niggle of discomfort gnawed in Theora’s belly, but when she focused on Edison’s relaxed stance, she was able to push it away.

       “Murray-” Edison jerked his head in the direction of the producer, who had already busied himself with other work- “decided to send me out into the field today. So, like Max, I can’t stay here long. Murray will find someone to accompany you on your tour.”

       “Oh.” Alex’s face fell, but he quickly plastered on a bright smile. “Maybe you can show me around, Theora? Just like we were talking about?” He moved close to her, and Theora forced herself to gaze into his too-wide eyes. The desire to look away filled her every nerve. Though Alex seemed well-intentioned, something about him that screamed foreboding.

         “As I told you,” she explained calmly, surprised at her own patience, “I need to be here with Edison. Leave the tour up to Murray.”

        “Leave what up to me?” Murray asked, his attention wandering back to his employees. Edison shrugged. “Theora suggested you show Alex around, if you can spare the time.”

       “That’s awfully considerate,” Murray said with the barest hint of sarcasm. “Considering I have work to do in the office. But I’d be willing to take time from my schedule.” He clapped Edison on the shoulder. “Okay, gang, you know where to go from here. I’ll be in my office if you need me, Theora. I just have to sort out a few things, and then I’ll be off with Alex.”

       “Thank you, Murray,” Theora said. She flashed a grin at Edison, who returned it. Looking back at her monitor, she felt a hand on her back, and was startled when she glanced upwards to find it belonged to Alex, not Edison. He gazed at her intensely before removing his hand. This time she couldn’t hold back her shiver. What was wrong with Alex? Was he making a pass at her?

       “See you later, Control!” Edison called as he headed to the doors, Murray not far behind. “And I hope to see you again soon, Alex. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you.”

        “I’ve enjoyed meeting you as well,” Alex called pleasantly. Theora waved goodbye before getting to work, accessing the city’s mainframe. Alex came to stand over her shoulder and watch, fascinated.

        “You’ve got a pretty good job here, haven’t you?” Softness and intrigue filled Alex’s voice, which would have put Theora at ease until she looked up to and saw that he was staring at her with open… lust. In no time he replaced the expression with a shrug and a nice smile, but Theora’s distrust had solidified. Why couldn’t he respect her as a woman in a highly paying job, instead of treating her like a doll?

        “Yes,” she replied stiffly. “It’s a lot of work, but it always pays off, and I greatly enjoy it. On your end, what’s it like working in the Gramodisc Archives?” She hoped that by turning the conversation away from herself, Alex would stop seeing her as a piece of meat and more as the human she was.

       “Oh, it’s all right,” Alex said, shrugging. “My favorite part is getting to take a disc home for myself every night.” He inched into Theora’s personal space, daring her to make eye contact. “Do you have any fondness for music- such as those great great works by the master composer Ludwig Van Beethoven?”

        The name didn’t ring a bell for Theora. She was more concerned with getting Alex to back off than with making conversation. Shaking her head, she leaned away from his glowing eyes. “No, I’ve never heard of him.”

       Alex’s shoulders slumped, and he seemed about to make another move when Theora, unable to bear his closeness, jumped in.

       “You know, Alex, if you’re curious or impatient you can start the tour without having to wait for Murray. I’ll let you know how to locate the places you’re looking for.”

        “Oh?” Finally seeming to realize his intrustion on both Theora’s job and personal space, Alex took a step back. “Maybe we could start with, um… your tech lab?”

       “Perfect,” Theora breathed. “Max will be down there too. I’m sure Bryce’s experiments will interest you.” She didn’t mention that Bryce, while he didn’t necessarily dislike visitors, usually hated having to dumb down his explanations for people with lesser intellect. She only knew that Alex had seemed stricken by Max, and that she didn’t want to interact with him anymore. “All you have to do is go downstairs to Level 13 and turn left. You can find him at the end of the hall.”

        “I should like that very much,” Alex murmured, moving away. “Thank you, Theora. I’ll go now.” At last he departed, and Theora expelled a sigh as she turned her attention back to the work she loved. Alex might not be the criminal Les had claimed he was, but he certainly disturbed Theora. Though perhaps her knowledge of his background was influencing her opinion.

       A few minutes later Murray returned to Theora’s side, tapping her shoulder. “Theora? Where did Alex go?”

       Theora looked up, dazed after seeing through Edison’s eyes. She moved her microphone away from her mouth. “I sent Alex down to Bryce’s level. He’s probably there now.”

        “Ah,” sighed Murray. “That’s one less thing I have to worry about.”

                                                                               *

        Hidden from seeing eyes, Alex traveled to the 13th level of Network 23 by dint of elevator, then followed Theora’s instructions to the mouth of Bryce’s cave. His mind was reeling from everything he had just witnessed- the technology, the neatness and precision of everyone in the main control room, the terror of Max Headroom- how could that be legal? How could such a thing be allowed to exist?- and the humiliation of Theora’s obvious rejection. It had been a long time since Alex let his mind stray towards the old in-out-in-out, and any other man would have been sorry for freaking out Theora, but Alex instead was angered that he had let her slip out of his hands. It was so tedious having to go through the motions of meeting a woman and asking her out on a date before getting what he really wanted. Alex didn’t see how anyone else could stand it.

       Now that he was here traversing these hallways, Alex felt as if he were caught inside of a machine from which he couldn’t escape. It had been a good idea to come to the city, if only to scope out locations and new recruits, but he now regretted his decision to visit Network 23. Among the workers in their tiny, uniform boxes, Alex felt dreadfully out of place. As he stepped through the doorway into Bryce Lynch’s lab, he hoped whatever was inside would lift his mood, although if Max was there, he doubted it.

        A few moments before Alex arrived, Bryce and Max had been locked in an argument that arose from lack of work on Bryce’s part. Max had been initially enthusiastic to help Bryce with a cutting-edge experiment, but he soon grew bored and irritated when all Bryce wanted to do was…

          “Bouncing b-b-b-balls?!” Max spat, his head and eyes bobbing in time to the rhythm of Bryce’s rubber toy. “W-w-what did you need me-m-m-me here f-for if all you’re g-g-g-going to d-do is bounce b-b-balls?”

        “Ssh,” Bryce muttered, not paying the talking head on his TV screen any mind. “We’ll get to the experiment soon, I promise. Right now I’m just running a backup program.”

        “But wh-wh-where’s the f-fun in that?” Max asked, incomprehension thick in his voice. “Wh-wh-why shut your-y-y-yourself off and let m-m-m-muscle memory take over-over, when you’ll feel much b-b-better actually using your own m-m-mind?”

         “Listen,” Bryce said, turning his spectacle-framed eyes towards Max. “If you’re not interested in participating you can always leave.”

         “Not in-in-interested in part _iiiii_ cipating?” Max repeated, incredulously. “Huh! Huh! If y-you’re going to be like that I shouldn’t b-b-bother with my t-time.” He disappeared, leaving Bryce groaning in frustration. “Max, come back!” He threw the ball at the now-empty TV screen, and watched it bounce back in interest. _At what angle did I throw that?_ Suddenly invigorated, Bryce jumped from his seat and raced to pick up the ball, his mind already proceeding with a thousand calculations.

        At that moment Alex Burgess burst through the door, jamming his hands in his pockets and commanding anyone who dared inhabit the room to look up and tremble in fear. Unfortunately- or perhaps fortunately- the only person in the room was Bryce, and he wasn’t paying attention. He had bent over to retrieve the rubber ball from the floor. As soon as he stood up he caught sight of his visitor.

        “Oh, hi!” Bryce said, moving to set the ball on his desk before walking forward to observe Alex. “Excuse me… who are you? Were you sent you down here?”

        Alex sized up the young boy in front of him and had to restrain his urge to scoff disdainfully. This wasn’t the place for boys his age. He should be running wild in the city streets, not cooped up inside a skyscraper doing a TV network’s dirty work. Instead of pity, rage coated Alex’s tongue, and he tried to keep it down.

         “I’m Alex Burgess, employee at the Gramodisc Archives.” How many times had he made such an introduction today?

        The boy chuckled shortly. “Gramodisc? I met someone once who had a vintage disc collection. They were so huge back then, huh?”

         So this boy wasn’t a music fan either. Forcing himself not to grit his teeth, Alex continued, “I’m here on the invitation of Edison Carter. His controller sent me down here… I’m looking for a man named Bryce Lynch?”

          The boy smiled. “Well, this is he. Although I wouldn’t call myself a man yet. Not for another year.” He offered his hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Burgess.”

        Alex was nearly too stunned by this revelation to grasp Bryce’s hand. The head of Network 23’s technological department was nothing more than a teenager! Myriad feelings ran through his head, most of them varying forms of anger directed towards Network 23 and its employees. This place was a nuthouse. Not only was it unfair to take this boy’s childhood away from him, but it was also unfair that the boy had been considered for the job in the first place. How dare he, of all people, receive such a high honor? What kind of a world was he living in where children received the opportunity to work for a TV network, while Alex had grown up in an environment that promoted a life of crime as the only way to win any respect? He barely noticed when Bryce’s hand slid out of his, too incensed was he.

          “How- how on earth did you get this job?” Alex heard himself say, though his words sounded far away through his own ears. “How _old_ are you?”

       “Seventeen,” Bryce replied nonchalantly.

       _Seventeen…_ Alex had been the same age when he committed the crime that got him thrown in the Staja. Bryce continued- “It’s not unusual nowadays for TV networks to choose their heads of technology from recent ACS graduates. Academy of Computer Science,” he clarified, presumably reading the confusion on Alex’s face.

        Alex nodded, pretending to be impressed, but in truth he had never felt more disgusted by something that wasn’t Lucovico-induced. Why had he never received such an opportunity to make something of himself? How could Bryce achieve this greatness when all Alex had done at his age was run around nightly with his droogs and skip school?

          “So what did Theora send you down here for?” Bryce asked as he returned to his seat. “Seeing as I’ve just lost an assistant for today’s experiment, maybe you could fill in for him.” When Alex didn’t respond, Bryce turned around. “No…? Oh, I bet you’re interested in some of the stuff I’ve already made. There’s the virtual parrot, and a magnet that picks up wood-”

        “Shut up,” Alex hissed, so quietly that he didn’t even hear himself say it at first.

         “Excuse me?” Bryce blinked from behind his thick-rimmed glasses. So innocent. He was so innocent, and so unsuspecting, and it made Alex so sick that he could scream. He almost thought he was experiencing the effects of the Ludovico treatment, except this sickness came with a desire to hurt and kill, rape and pillage.  Added to Bryce’s mention of Theora and the failure he had experienced in trying to entice her, Alex felt an iron clamp take over his body. He saw everything through a filter of red.

         “I said-” In one quick motion, Alex reached into his pants pocket and whipped out a straight razor, his very own britva that he had used so many times back in his glorious teenage days. “I said…” He stalked forward, holding the razor out like only he knew how. “I said _shut up.”_

Bryce backed away, automatically. As a general rule of thumb, he never allowed himself to feel fear, as it was an unnecessary emotion that stood in the way of his work. But the sight of this strange, uninvited man wielding a weapon struck… something into his heart. Something unfamiliar and unpleasant. All his mind could process was the desire to flee from Alex.

       Alex approached Bryce, backing him up against his desk. Bryce recovered enough sense to attempt to reach the viewphone for help. But in one quick motion, Alex had the upper hand. He lunged at Bryce and wrestled him into a headlock, pressing the razor’s thin blade to his throat. The winking red eye of a Securicam caught him by surprise, and swiftly he grabbed Bryce’s hard rubber ball and aimed it at the camera with the most powerful force he could muster. The impact shattered the camera’s glass.

         “What… what are you going to do with me?” Bryce asked, his voice calm even though he knew that Alex was a beacon of danger. He was more puzzled than afraid for his life, wondering if Alex would attack him or try to kidnap him and hold him for ransom.

        “Shut your rot,” Alex ordered, his voice taking on an odd accent that Bryce had never heard before. “I am going to introduce you to the old ultraviolence, oh my malenky brother. You shall be wounded and ravaged by the great Alexander DeLarge.”

        Alex didn’t give his words a second thought. He knew once his heart he had been urged towards ultraviolence, there was no going back. The familiar joy began to steal over him, and he filled with glee as a balloon fills with air. It wouldn’t do to kill this boy, but he could use a few lessons in the wicked ways of the nadsats.

       The cold razor pressed hard against Bryce’s throat, and he felt himself sweating. A churning feeling built in his stomach, and his heart rate sped up. Some cool and collected part of his mind catalogued these reactions as evidence of panic, while the rest of him experienced said panic full-force.

        Suddenly Alex made his move. He slammed Bryce to the floor with a fist at a pressure point in his back and pinned him facedown, knocking his glasses off in the process. Alex forced Bryce’s head down, so that the shards of glass from his broken eyewear dug into his face. Bryce cried out in pain, and Alex yelled at him to be quiet. His razor grazed the skin at the back of Bryce’s neck.

         It was then that Bryce decided to resort to pleading for his life. If he didn’t get out of this soon he would end up terribly wounded. “Hey, let me go! Please! I-”

         “I’ll not let you go until I’ve had enough of you, my brother,” Alex hissed in his ear. “Lie down and like relax. This will be real horrorshow.” His tongue traced outlines against Bryce’s ear, and Bryce’s body erupted into tremors.

         Lying with a face full of floor, and with his glasses gone, Bryce couldn’t see Alex unbuttoning his dress pants and casting his jacket away. He couldn’t see the murderous grin on Alex’s face. But he could feel it when Alex undressed him, reared, and took the plunge.

*

             Several minutes later, the newly formed Alex DeLarge arose from the ashes of his scarred creation. He spat contemptuously in Bryce’s direction, before straightening himself up and retrieving his suit jacket. It was then that he noticed he had an audience- the abomination Max Headroom, gazing silently and accusingly from the nearest TV. Alex snarled and ran at the TV, whisking it off the desk to bring it crashing to the ground. Glass cracked, and the plug burst into sparks as it was yanked violently from the wall. Content that he had left no suspects, Alex made his escape.

         But it was too late. Max was already on his way to Control to inform Theora and Murray of what he had just seen happen on Level 13.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more descriptions of the aftermath of rape and the beginning of recovery.

        The sign outside the beaten, rundown building was hardly legible thanks to faded lettering and the quality of Edison’s camera, but Theora could just make out the word “Library.”

          “You think a nostalgic piece would give the public a breather after the thrill of our last show?” Edison’s voice asked, a trace of excitement in his voice. “Or do you think talking about books would be too controversial nowadays?”

       “I’d say go with your gut, Edison,” Theora sighed, thinking back to how Edison had once uncovered a printing press business run by Blanks, just before the Metrocops burst in on the scene, eager to bust them. “Just be careful if you go in there. It’s sure to be full of crack addicts now.”

        If Edison replied, Theora never got to hear him. In the blink of an eye, Max’s glowing face replaced the image of the old library. Theora was about to demand he tell her what he was doing there, when she realized that his expression wasn’t, well, Max-like at all. Instead of gleaming with a bright, egotistical smile, his expression was urgent, desperate. He resembled Edison more than he ever had before.

        “Max?” Theora said as gently as she could, though a bit of irritation that he had cut her off from Edison seeped through her. “What are you doing here?”

         “It’s B-B-B-Bryce,” Max blurted, and even his ludicrous voice sounded grave. “That c-c-cat in the suit a-a-a-attacked him-him!”

        It took a moment for Theora to understand what Max had just said, but when she did, her eyes widened. “Are you saying that Alex attacked Bryce?” She hadn’t seen him since he left for Level 13…

         “I-I-I saw it with my own vir-virtual eyes-s!” Max insisted. “D-D-Don’t just sit there. D-D-D-Do something!”

        So surprising was Max’s tone and message that Theora didn’t realize Murray had approached her from behind, until his voice rang out and startled her. “Max, what are you doing here? Is Edison done with his work?”

       Theora spun around in her seat. She and Max blurted with one voice, “Bryce has been attacked.” (“ta-a-acked.”)

       “What?” Murray stated, glancing from one face to the other. “By whom?”

        “Alex,” Theora breathed. “Max saw it happen in Bryce’s studio.”

        “I think he s-s-s-smashed one of the TVs d-d-down-d-down there,” Max continued. “I’m not c-c-c-connecting to it-it.”

        Still Murray stood in one place, confusion scrawled across his countenance. “But why would he-”

       “Go to B-B-Bryce!” Max urged, and with that he was gone. Theora’s ears were suddenly filled with shouting. “Control, where are you?”

        “…Edison,” she gasped, as Murray rushed to her side. Her fingers settled themselves on the typewriter keys and grew rigid. “Max just showed up-”

         “Oh, good God,” Edison groaned. “What could he possibly have to say that was worth interrupting my work?”

       There was no time to point out that Max had intruded upon Theora’s work more than Edison’s. “He said something’s happened to Bryce. Alex Burgess has attacked him.”

        There was a moment of dead air, and then Edison’s voice filtered through, full of disbelief- “What.” No question mark hung at the end of the statement.

        Murray leaned into Theora’s space. “Edison, you’ve got to come back here. Max has your instinct for the truth- he wouldn’t make up a story like this. Bryce could be in danger.”

           “What was he doing at Bryce’s?” Edison said, his tone growing harsh. “And why would he-”

        “There’s no time to ask questions,” Theora said. “You have to come back.”

        A second’s hesitation. Then a single word crawled out of Edison’s mouth- “Okay.” The Disconnect icon flashed up on the monitor’s screen.

        Theora was already out of her seat, imploring Murray with her eyes, but Murray shook his head in response to the unasked question. “I want you to stay at Control to wait for Edison. I’m going down to Level 13 to check out Bryce’s studio.”

        “All right,” Theora murmured, sinking back down into her chair. Her heart was speeding, and she tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths. However bad Bryce’s injuries were, Murray would come to his rescue. “I’ll connect to the Securicam downstairs if you don’t mind.”

        Murray nodded and pushed past Theora, briskly making his way to the door.

        After pausing to let the situation wash over her, Theora finally moved her hand across the keyboard, establishing a link with Bryce’s Securicam. Her mind was in turmoil, but she frantically tried to get a grip. Max wasn’t given to lying, except when he had to, but Theora couldn’t help but hope he had mistaken what he claimed to have seen. Why would Alex, a respected citizen, attack an innocent network employee like Bryce? _He’s just seventeen,_ she thought, her heart freezing as the link went dead. _What could he have possibly done to anyone?_ It wasn’t until she realized that the Securicam had been tampered with that Les’s accusatory words came back to her, resounding residually in her ears. He had invoked Alex Burgess’s name for a reason after all…

         Her heart thudding, Theora sank back and refused to allow her mind to make sense.

                                                                         *

       Murray cursed under his breath as he reached Level 13 and strode down the long hallway to Bryce’s lab. Unlike Theora, he was not worrying over Bryce or wondering why Alex Burgess would attack him. He was just angered that Alex had been let into Network 23 at all, and that Edison could have believed he was an innocent man. Never mind that Theora and Murray had both fallen for Alex’s spell hook, line, and sinker. By the time Murray reached the closed door of Bryce’s studio, he was seething _\- this will do wonders for our reputation!_. Stepping inside, he surveyed his surroundings. At first there didn’t seem to be a hair out of place, but then Murray noticed the smashed TV lying on the floor. It pulled at his heartstrings to see the ruined machine lying there. _Sacrilege!_

        “Bryce?” Murray called out, walking forward. He didn’t stop and wait for a response. The most he expected to find was a bruised and bloodied Bryce Lynch, huddled in a corner in need of medical assistance. It came as a surprise when he nearly stumbled over something lying at his feet. Quickly he realized that this _something_ was in fact Bryce, in the nude, curled in on himself in a fetal position. His eyes were open, but seemed not to see anything, and his glasses lay smashed by his head. His face was gouged with red cuts, presumably from either the broken glasses or the TV’s screen, which lay slaughtered in shards at Murray’s feet.

        “Hey, Bryce, can you hear me?” Murray questioned, unmoved by the sight before him. He had seen worse injuries in his time as a reporter, and hell, he had never really liked the kid before. There had always been some smug aura about him- _it’s really very simple, I don’t see why you don’t understand…_ Bryce didn’t respond, which Murray had to admit was unusual. He knelt on the linoleum floor and waved his hand in front of Bryce’s face. “Hey. Can you hear me?” Bryce’s listless, glazed eyes didn’t follow Murray’s motion.

        Swallowing, Murray cast his eyes across the floor, searching for Bryce’s clothes. They lay beside him in a carelessly strewn heap. He moved over to retrieve them, and at that moment noticed what he hadn’t before, due to the darkness of the room. Bryce’s shoulders and upper back were covered in burgeoning bruises. Murray let his eyes travel farther down, and then stopped when he noticed a sticky-looking fluid smeared across Bryce’s skin. In one horrifying second, he understood what had transpired. Murray shot to his feet like a rocket and glanced to Securicam, only to find that its light was out. _That bastard Alex-!_ His feet carried him over to the viewphone, where his fingers punched in the number for the city’s medical center.

        After making the distress call, Murray returned to Bryce’s side, unsure of what to do. Not since his wife had announced her intention to leave him had Murray felt as helpless. He sat down next to Bryce and, at a loss for any more feasible actions, draped Bryce’s clothes around his prone body and gently rubbed his back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He really wasn’t good at this sort of thing, and that might be why he hadn’t truly connected to his daughter, hadn’t been enough of a man for his wife…

        “It’s okay, Bryce,” Murray murmured. “You’re going to get the best medical treatment that the doctors can give you. We’re going to find Alex and make him pay for hurting you…” Such a sentiment sounded more like something Edison would say, but Murray couldn’t stop it from sliding out of his mouth. “It’s okay,” he repeated awkwardly, and then shut up, staring at the bright doorway and reflecting on what fools everyone had been.

                                                                      *

         The doors burst open, and Theora snapped to her feet in preparation to receive the murderous Edison. His blue eyes sparked as he surged forward, ignoring everyone else in the room but Theora. She crept out from behind her terminal just in time for Edison to reach her, shouting, “What the hell was Alex doing in Bryce’s studio?!”

        Theora gulped, realizing he had come to the conclusion that Alex had deceived them all much more quickly than she had. “Edison,” she half-whispered, wanting to back away at the sight of his intensely furious eyes. “How could any of us known that he would-”

         “Which one of you sent him down there?” he interrupted, casting threatening glances towards the employees who had collected into a sizable group, waiting to see if Edison would chew out his controller. Theora wavered, reluctant to say anything. It struck her that she had led Alex in the direction of Bryce, and that Edison would find that grounds to blame her. But how was she to have known Alex’s intentions?

        “Please,” Theora began, trying not to raise her voice. “Just calm down and-”

        “Bryce has been attacked and you’re asking me to _calm down_?” Edison stated, incredulous. “I saw an ambulance helicopter land on our helipad. This is more serious than you may realize.” He turned around and verbally lashed at the onlookers. “And you guys should stop rubbernecking. This isn’t mindless entertainment!”

        The employees bowed their heads and shuffled back to their seats, but Theora knew that they would keep one ear each on the conversation, ready to gossip about it no matter what Edison wished. Edison turned back around and leaned closer to Theora, his presence scorching her. “Theora… where is Alex now?”

         “I don’t know,” she replied, her voice quavering with stress. “I- I told him where to find Bryce, and the next thing I know-”

         “You told him _what_?” Edison blurted. His body was vibrating  like a tightly wound spring about to uncoil. Theora took a step back, feeling more threatened by her friend than she had by the stranger Alex.

         Fortunately, that was when Murray decided to make his appearance, bustling through the doors with a strained expression. Both Edison and Theora moved to face him, wordlessly awaiting the news. The rest of their fellow employees peeked out from behind their desks, focusing intently on the next stage of the battle.

         “Murray, what’s going-” Edison began, but Murray’s quiet statement silenced him. “Alex Burgess has raped Bryce.”

        A shocked silence filled the air. Even the TVs seemed to quiet.

         “The Securicam in his studio was smashed, so there’s no record of what he did,” Murray continued, his voice heavy. “Bryce is being transported to the medical center as we speak. He’s unresponsive- I think he’s in shock.”

        “Oh my God,” Theora whispered, without daring to glance at Edison. She was nervously terrified of what she might find on his face. But though her eyes were turned away, she could still feel the violent energy radiating from him as he processed Murray’s words. Suddenly he spun around and rounded on Theora.

       “You sent Alex down there! You caused this to happen!” He was so close that Theora had to back up against a desk, holding her arms in front of her for protection. “You’re responsible for Bryce’s condition-!”

        Theora flinched, cringing away from Edison’s wrath. For a split second she wondered if he would forget their friendship and his moral code and actually hit her, but she heard Murray cry out, “Edison, what are you doing?” He grabbed Edison, wrestling him away from Theora, who dropped her stance and stared at the two men in anguish.

         “I’m sorry, Edison,” she said, her voice far from calm. It was the best she could manage. “But you’re being irrational. Alex was interested in Bryce’s experiments, and I obliged him. None of us could have known that Alex would…” She swallowed. “We all trusted him…”

        _Except for me._ In a flash, Theora remembered that she had only sent Alex away because he had been inappropriately flirting with her. She was the only person to have discerned his less-than-exemplary behavior, and she hadn’t called him out on it, instead leading him directly to the perfect victim. _Damn!_ If Theora had obeyed her gut instincts- if she had at least accompanied him to Level 13, or found someone else to do so- Bryce would have been saved. She glanced down at the solid floor beneath her feet, longing for comfort and to turn back time. There was no way she could mention Alex’s advances to Edison.

       Meanwhile, Murray had released Edison, who seemed relatively calmer, though his hands were still clenched and his jaw was still firm. Murray studied him with a mixture of pity and bewilderment. “I don’t understand what’s just happened,” he said. “Alex appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a respectable citizen. And you wouldn’t have brought him here had you had any inclination of this side of his nature…” He stared at Edison as if challenging him to defend his actions, but Edison only hung his head, his eyes burning fiercely.

        “I’ll take the blame if that’s what you want, Murray. I just-” His voice rose in pitch, and his two hands locked together in a single fist. “I just can’t believe this. I can’t believe-”

         “I can’t believe we were tricked so badly,” Theora spoke up. Both Edison and Murray looked over at her, but only Edison made eye contact. He seemed to be debating internally whether or not to blame her for what had happened to Bryce, or to blame himself.

        “I thought you told me that Alex had undergone some sort of treatment that made him loathe violence,” Murray addressed Theora. The search for answers was written across his face, but Theora had no way to assuage him.

        “That’s exactly what it said in his file,” she stated. “If the treatment had been reversed, his file would have indicated that. Alex is a dangerous man, and we should have been warned…” Les’s words rang in Theora’s ears again, and she realized that everything of which the boy had accused Alex must have been true.

        “He used us,” Edison spat. “He must be held responsible. He used me to gain access to a network building, not out of interest, not to spy on us, not even to steal our technology or kidnap one of our finest workers, but all for one sick fuck.” He shook his head and looked away.

         A silence filled the air, which Murray was the first to break. “I think we need to notify the Metrocops. And Bryce’s parents. When the story gets out, it wouldn’t do for them to learn that their son has been beaten and raped from a late-night news program.” At the last sentence, Edison grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

          “Bryce’s parents…” Theora breathed quietly to herself. She had never imagined the friendly teenaged genius as having parents. Bryce hardly ever mentioned them, except once to say that he hadn’t seen them in a long time after graduating from ACS. The existence of a family suddenly made the situation even more real. Theora’s heart twisted to think of how the Lynches’ first news of their son after several years would be the story of his attack… An attack in the face of which she had accidentally placed Bryce.

         Murray pierced Theora with his eye, and she glanced up expectantly. “I’m going to make the calls,” Murray announced. His gaze knowingly pierced Theora. “And I expect you to do some research on this Ludovico treatment. Contact anyone you can get ahold of who was involved in Alex’s trial for murder- it was murder, right?” Theora nodded, and Murray continued. “Find out everything you can about the state of Alex’s file and his past. As for you…” He looked over at Edison, who stared dully back.

         “Go downstairs and find out where Alex made his escape,” Murray said. “Question everyone you meet. Hell, for all we know he’s still on the premises.”

          “All right, boss,” Edison said in a voice that lacked sincerity, smiling sarcastically. Murray sighed.

         “Look, I know this… tragedy is hard for all of us to deal with. But the only way to help Bryce is to find Alex and bring him to justice, and the only way to do _that_ is to keep working.”

       Though she said nothing, Theora nodded. Murray was absolutely right. Her heart burned for Bryce’s plight, but all she could do was bury herself in her assignment, hoping to uncover crucial information. She gazed at Edison. His body language showed that he wanted to rebel, but ultimately he nodded sharply and moved towards the door. He knew that there was no use in fighting when his actions could help someone.

          “Thank you for listening to me,” Murray murmured, before making for his office. Alone at last, Theora sat down at her terminal and prepared to connect with London’s mainframe.

                                                                              *

        Murray sat down heavily at the office viewphone and took a few moments to thank God for privacy and to collect himself before making the dreaded call. As with Theora and Edison, he had never met Bryce’s parents before, and had to search for their number in the digital phone directory. This distraction gave him time to think about how he would react if he learned that Alex Burgess had beaten and raped his daughter, who was roughly Bryce’s age. Ever since Murray had found Bryce in his catatonic state, he’d been moved emotionally in a way he’d never felt towards Bryce, and wondered how much worse it would be if Anni had been the victim. He broke out of the vision with a shudder. If a character like Alex Burgess ever came anywhere near Anni, he would tell him in no polite terms where he could go. Empathy surged in Murray’s heart, and he gritted his teeth as he selected the right number, steeling himself for a painful talk.

        “...Hello?” Murray found himself staring into the eyes of a very confused-looking woman, her brunette hair done up in curlers. She frantically glanced around as if checking for any incriminating sights, before patting her hair and leaning closer to the viewphone. Her worried blue eyes nearly filled the entire screen. “Who am I speaking to?”

           “Mrs. Lynch…” Murray breathed, preparing himself for the shock that was sure to come. “My name is Murray. I’m a producer at Network 23, and I’m here to inform you that something… terrible has happened to your son Bryce…”

         As expected, the revelation horrified Mrs. Lynch. The information grew doubly painful as she called her husband into the room and repeated what Murray had just told her in a stupefied tone. Murray could offer nothing but a terse apology, refusing to let emotion to saturate his words, and proceeded to inform that Bryce had been transferred to the city medical center. He disconnected the call after Mrs. Lynch tearfully thanked him for the information, as hard to bear as it was. The last image Murray saw of the couple was Mrs. Lynch burying her face in Mr. Lynch’s shoulder, his arms around her but his eyes far away. Closing his eyes, Murray expelled a sigh and gathered himself once again before calling the Metrocops.

           “Hey, Murray? What can we do for you?”

        “There’s been an attack at our network building,” Murray said, mincing no words. “Our head of technological research was raped by an intruder-” no need to scare anyone by admitting that it was the leader of the child gangs himself- “and he has yet to be apprehended. I’m requesting you could come down here and conduct a search, that is if Edison hasn’t found him by now.” He paused before gruffly adding, “The least you can do is to raise a public alarm.”

           “For one intruder?” The chief of the Metropolice chuckled, albeit in a reserved manner, as he didn’t want to make light of the awful situation at 23. “What kind of guy are you looking for?”

       “The guy behind the recent gang activity,” Murray answered, deciding it was time to be blunt. Alex Burgess was loose in his city, and it was the fault of his Network 23 employees. The Metrocops deserved to understand exactly who they were dealing with. “His name is Alexander Burgess, and he’s got blond hair, blue eyes, last seen dressed in a gray suit, about six feet tall… I mean about two meters,” he corrected himself, remembering that the customary system of measurement had only recently been discarded. “And he’s very dangerous. Proceed with caution.”

          As soon as the Metrocop’s chief had gotten the message, he set off to gather the other Metrocops and head to Network 23. Murray got up from his seat, spent from what he considered the gristliest task compared to Theora and Edison’s work. Then a thought crossed his mind, and he groaned before returning to his seat. Cheviot’s board of network executives needed to be informed of what had happened, and Murray could only guess that their reactions would be anything but easy to handle.

                                                                           *

         “Hey, Theora?”

       Theora glanced up from her work to find Tina, a blonde controller with whom she sometimes chatted, hovering over her work area with an expression of deep concern. Theora blinked to clear her vision from the screen’s influence. “What it is, Tina?” She worked at presenting a calm outward appearance. Of course tragedy had befallen Network 23, but she couldn’t go to pieces if she expected to make any progress in solving it.

       Tina glanced around nervously, before lowering her voice to a whisper. “That Alex Burgess fellow… I didn’t like him very much. He was eyeing me as soon as he came through the door this morning. I’m sure he would have inched his way over and started sweet-talking if you hadn’t shown up when you did.” She swallowed. “I can’t believe he did this to poor Bryce…”

         “And we ignored the signs,” Theora finished softly, gazing down at her terminal. She was grateful for Tina’s distraction, even if it was a sad conversation. Her search for more information regarding the Ludovico treatment had revealed nothing but dead ends. Only two leads looked promising- a file on the man who had given the treatment his name, and the name of the doctor who had forced Alex to undergo it. Shaking her hair out, Theora met Tina’s glum eyes and tried to reassure her. “What Alex did to Bryce was not your fault, Tina. There was no way any of us could have seen this coming.”

       “But… I could have warned someone that he was trying to flirt with me,” Tina said, her shoulders slumping.

        “And what good would that do?” Theora chided. “There was no incriminating evidence. Not liking someone is hardly a cause for alarm.”

        Tina stared back at Theora before lowering her head, and Theora began to get a familiar, uncomfortable feeling. It rarely visited her these days, but had been prevalent when she’d first begun working as Edison’s controller. Though the other controllers had quickly accepted her, Theora had always felt a bit like a fish out of water, as if no one at Network 23 could truly understand her intelligence and skill. She glanced down at her keyboard and willed the emotion to go away.

        “God, but Bryce is such a good kid though,” Tina piped up, studying her shoes. “He came down here when you were helping Edison find that Blank woman, and he was absolutely amazing… made me want to quit my job.” She laughed shortly, before remembering the black cloud that hung over Network 23 and shutting herself up.

       At that moment Edison returned, as if he had heard his name mentioned. With a downhearted “See ya, Theora,” Tina returned to her desk. With one look at Edison, Theora could tell that his search for Alex had been unsuccessful. He moved aimlessly, as if he didn’t care where he was going or how long it took him to get there, and his eyes were glued to the floor. As soon as he reached Theora’s side, he peered at the monitor’s screen without much interest before informing her of what she already knew. “I searched all over the damn building and I didn’t find Alex anywhere. Not only that, but no one I met claimed to have seen him leave, not even the door guard!” He exhaled angrily and turned his head away. “I’m sure he’s been bribed.”

        “My search was all but fruitless as well,” Theora stated. “I didn’t find anything regarding how the Ludovico treatment works, but I did discover the name of the doctor who administered it to Alex.” The name tasted like bile in her mouth. “He doesn’t appear to be practicing anymore, though.”

       “Shit.” Edison looked back at the monitor and studied the scant information it displayed. “Did you find out anything else that could be of use?”

        Theora hesitated, remembering a piece of information that she had first come across when reading Alex’s file. Edison had questioned her about it, but she hadn’t had the chance to explain. “Well, I realized that because Alex has a government job, he’ll have a harder time getting a trial. Apparently he’s a strong supporter of London’s Minister of the Interior, which means the Minister will be biased towards his cause. When we find him, he can’t just go on _You The Jury_ like everyone else.”

       “Great,” Edison sniped. “He’s committed a crime that he might not even be prosecuted for.”

       “We don’t have to worry about the trial quite yet, though,” Theora pointed out, swiveling in her seat so that she could meet Edison’s eyes. “Our first objective is finding him, and we _will_ find him. We did okay with finding the original gang members, you know.”

       “I know,” Edison muttered, nodding, before looking away from Theora as if realizing how exposed he was. “I… Theora, I can’t believe this has happened. Bryce didn’t deserve this… and he’s at the medical center because of our bad judgment. _My_ bad judgment.” Hanging his head, Edison stared at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “It was wrong to accuse you, Theora. I’m the one responsible for all this. If I had believed what Les told me instead of letting Alex sway me, Bryce would be okay.” His words came out in a hiss. “He would have _never_ gotten hurt.”

       Hearing Edison blame himself so strongly for Bryce’s attack made Theora cringe. In most situations, Edison was too headstrong to ever admit that he had screwed up. But now he had gone beyond screwing up, and it was time to face the bitter truth. Still, Theora didn’t believe that the blame rested solely on Edison’s shoulders. She rose from her seat and gently laid her hand against his back. “It could have happened to anyone. Alex was very convincing, more convincing than we realized.”

         “Yes, but…” Edison raised his head and angled his body towards Theora, and try as she might to resist it Theora felt a flush of warmth spread over her skin. “It had to happen to me. To us. To Bryce.”

        “It’s not your fault,” Theora soothed, moving closer without realizing what she was doing. Her hand moved to Edison’s shoulder, and their eyes met in a quick second that felt like a lightning strike. “Alex tricked us all…”

        Edison said nothing, but reached up to cover Theora’s hand with his own, his expression filling with anguish. Theora took his hand and brought it down, twining her fingers through his. They locked eyes, unable to look away. Edison began to lean in ever so slowly.

       Then Murray walked out of his office, and the startled pair broke apart, inches away from having been caught in a compromising position. Theora was shocked as she sank back down in her seat. What had she done? She had nearly allowed Edison to… fulfill his desires, kissing her where everyone could see. Shame raced through her as she thought of how Kent would have reacted had he been there.

       “Did you find him?” Murray asked Edison the instant he came within earshot. Edison shook his head in defeat. “I swear to God someone bribed security to keep quiet about Alex’s whereabouts. No one seemed to have any clue where he could have gone, if they admitted to seeing him at all.” He exhaled forcefully through his nose.

        “Well, I’ve got the Metrocops coming down soon to do a wide sweep of the area,” Murray said. “Though if Alex is smart enough, he’s fled town and gone back to London. But if he’s hiding out somewhere, we’ll find him.”

       He pushed past Edison and moved towards the flickering lights of Theora’s terminal. “I had to call the folks upstairs to tell them what had happened to Bryce. They didn’t take the news so well.”

       “Let me guess,” Edison began in a cynical tone. “They were more concerned for the sake of our reputation than for Bryce’s welfare?”

       “You got that right,” Murray sighed. “But you’ve got to give them more credit. They did seem genuinely worried about Bryce. Anyway, they want you to do a story on this.” He gave Edison a meaningful look. “You’re to visit the med center and report what’s happened to Bryce, then provide our local viewers with a description of Alex.”

         “It’s not every day they script my stories,” Edison muttered. “Lucky for them, I was already thinking of heading over there.”

       “Good.” Murray turned his gaze onto Theora. “If there’s anything you uncovered during your research, let me know now before we start preparing for the broadcast.”

           “Nothing of note came up, Murray,” Theora replied, surrendering the link to the London files at last. “I’m ready whenever you and Edison are.”

         “I’m ready now,” Edison blurted, already making for the door. Murray called after him. “There’s just one more thing I have to tell you. Bryce’s parents are already down at the med center, and they might… give you a hard time.”

       “After what happened today, I really couldn’t give a damn,” Edison admitted, halfway out the door. Theora dutifully began preparing for broadcast as Murray broke away and gave an order. “Clear a slot an hour from now for the _Edison Carter Show_!”

                                                                                   *

        It was a broadcast exactly like all the others, Theora reflected as she sat in her seat watching the world through Edison’s vidicam, and yet it was entirely different from what she was used to. The air was charged with tension, both at Network 23 and at the medical center.

        It all began when Edison arrived at the medcen and found Bryce’s parents standing outside of the room where Bryce had been treated, arguing with a doctor. The family resemblance was strong- both parents had Bryce’s dark hair, though his mother’s was tightly curled, and his father shared Bryce’s nose and blue eyes. Mrs. Lynch’s eyes were brown to match the color of her hair, and her face was stained with tears as she demanded that someone let her in to see Bryce. “My son has been attacked by some criminal, and you’re telling me I have to _wait_ to visit him? This is the first we’ve heard from him in years! I demand the right to see my child!”

        Theora became apprehensive as the image on her screen grew larger and larger, until finally the harried doctor looked up to greet Edison. The Lynches glanced up too, their surprised expressions hardening into unfriendliness. Mr. Lynch crossed his arms and gazed headlong into the camera. “What’s a reporter doing here?”

        “Mr. Carter,” the doctor cried, breaking from Bryce’s parents in obvious relief. “We got a call from your network that you’d be coming over. The room is all yours.” He gestured towards the door that Bryce presumably lay behind, and Edison stated in a surprised tone, “You’re letting me in but not Bryce’s parents?”

       “A reporter is going to see Bryce before we do?” Mrs. Lynch blurted hysterically. “This isn’t fair! How dare you expose Bryce on the news before letting us even look at him!”

        “Mrs. Lynch, please, if you’ll calm down,” the doctor murmured. “You’ll be able to see your son as soon as Mr. Carter is done with his story.”

        “I beg to differ,” Edison said, his voice filling with the sharp tones of anger. “I didn’t ask for this special privilege. Who put you up to this?”

       “The board executives from Network 23 made the call about fifteen minutes ago,” the doctor said, smooth and a bit smug, as if pleased with herself. “I’d expect you to heed their orders.”

        “Not when they’re unfair orders,” Edison muttered, but he moved forward all the same, opening the door. Though the doctor tried to wave them away, Theora saw Edison’s hand in the corner of the vidicam’s vision beckon the Lynches forward. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll let you have a look at Bryce.”

        Mrs. Lynch walked blindly forward, but Mr. Lynch took her arm and held her back. Theora flinched as if she were the one being insulted as Mr. Lynch cast a dark glare Edison’s way. “Thank you for your consideration, _Mr. Carter_ , but we’ll respectfully refuse,” he stated coldly. “I don’t want you to broadcast our grief for exploitation.”

       “Suit yourself,” Edison murmured. The camera’s view turned around as he entered the room. A nurse standing over the bed where Bryce was curled up caught sight of Edison and retreated. Awe shone in her eyes, although she knew better than to blurt “You’re the great Edison Carter!” at such a time.

       “Bryce,” Edison whispered. As the camera drew closer, Theora felt her heart wrench into pieces.

       Bryce lay on his side in bed, facing Edison but not seeming to see him. His eyes were open, but there was no sign of life behind them. His arms were firmly locked over his chest, as if trying to protect himself from future blows, and his face was pockmarked with heavy-duty Band-Aids in multiple spots. The camera zoomed in until Bryce’s stricken face was all that Theora could see, and she had to close her eyes for a moment and focus entirely on Edison’s breathing, which had sped up as he studied Bryce. Then she heard him say Bryce’s name, and opened her eyes to see fingers resting against his sweating forehead. Bryce gave no sign of feeling the touch.

        “He won’t talk to you,” the nurse’s voice sounded thinly from far across the room. “He’s completely unresponsive. It’s unclear when he’ll snap out of it.”

       Edison’s camera lifted away from the chilling vision of Bryce to train on the nurse. “What did Alex do to him?” he said, more as a rhetorical, stunned expression of guilt than a real question. The nurse answered matter-of-factly. “We found semen samples on the boy’s body and ran it through a DNA scanner. The guy’s not in our database, but I heard the person you’re looking for is from London?” Edison presumably nodded, unsurprised by the velocity at which news traveled, and the nurse went on. “Add up the injuries around the point of entry, and it’s a no-brainer as to what happened. We collected some glass shards from the cuts on his face- it appears to have come from his glasses.”

       “Thank you,” Edison mumbled, before backing away to get a wide shot of Bryce onscreen. His breathing was loud in Theora’s ears. She glanced up to see Murray finishing a chat with the chief of the Metropolice. In no time he approached her side and gave her a sly nod, and Theora murmured into her microphone, “Five minutes until broadcast, Edison.”

        “What?” he said, seemingly jerked out of his thoughts. “Oh…” She heard him exhale. “Control… I don’t know if I’m up for this.”

        “Fine time to cancel now,” Murray muttered. Theora shot him a brief glare. “I know it’s an awful situation, Edison, but you’ve got to go through with the broadcast for Bryce’s sake. The general public needs to be aware that Alex is on the loose within our society. You’ll be doing Bryce’s family a favor, as well as-” _Everyone at 23,_ she almost said, before remembering that the executives above her head had been more concerned about their reputation. “As well as every citizen,” she amended. Edison said nothing in response, but the image onscreen moved about as he tried to find the best angle from which to shoot. Finally he turned the vidicam around, and Theora caught a brief glimpse of Edison’s face, brow furrowed, before he set it down on the small table near Bryce’s bed. Kneeling down in front of it, Edison asked, “How does this show up?”

         “It’s perfect,” Theora said, and she meant it. She could see that Edison was going to open the broadcast by summarizing the situation, before taking the vidicam in his hands to reveal Bryce as evidence of what he had just informed his viewers. The right corner of her mouth pulled up grimly as she realized just how much she knew what to expect from Edison.

        “Two minutes to broadcast. Prepare to stand by,” Murray said. Theora relayed this information to Edison as he pulled up a chair. “Do you know what you’re going to say? We haven’t got much time to prepare.” Behind Edison’s shoulder, Theora saw the nurse hovering, before finally leaning out of the picture altogether. _Good._ There was no need for another person to be shown in any of the shots. Just the reporter and the singular victim.

       “I think I’ll wing it,” Edison said casually, although Theora knew he had to be forming a speech in his head at that very moment. “Just think, Theora- earlier today I was considering a story on ancient libraries, and now…”

       “One minute,” Murray said, and Theora held her breath. “Tell the nurse to clear out if need be.” Edison nodded before relaying Theora’s suggestion aloud. Peering up at Murray, Theora detected tension in his posture. Electricity seemed to flow through her like the current that supplied Network 23’s entire building. It shot off like a rocket as Murray gave her the signal. “We’re ready.”

          “All right,” Theora said clearly through her microphone. Edison scooted his chair back, leaning towards the camera with a deeply serious expression on his face. “Prepare for broadcast in five, four, three, two-”

       The word LIVE flashed in red letters at the bottom of the screen, and Edison snapped into professional mode. “This is Edison Carter reporting live and direct from Network 23.” Both Murray and Theora expelled shaky sighs without realizing they had been holding their breath.

       “Today a young member of our very own Network 23 staff experienced a terrible tragedy,” Edison said, his voice sounding strangely detached. “Bryce Lynch, 23’s head of technology, was assaulted in his own studio by an intruder posing as a government worker.” _Funny he should perpetuate the false story,_ Theora thought to herself; Murray had let her know that this was Network 23’s official excuse.

       “Lynch was beaten and raped by this man, who called himself Alexander Burgess,” Edison continued, standing up. “He still bears the scars.” Quick as a flash, Edison lifted the camera into his arms. Bryce Lynch’s blank face filled the screen, so painful that Theora had to quickly look away and rein in her emotional response. Emotion leaked into Edison’s voice as he spoke. His words were raw and fired at his listening audience of what was sure to be thousands.

        “Held at the city medical center, Bryce is now in a severe catatonic state,” Edison said, his steady voice showing some cracks. Theora felt a lump growing in her own throat, but she furiously swallowed past it. “It is unclear how long he will be out of commission, just as it is unclear as to what would drive a man to do this in the first place.” His voice swelled with passion. “Alex Burgess has not been tracked down, but he is considered to be highly dangerous. He is suspected as the mastermind behind this city’s recent gang activity.”

        “Now he’s done it,” Murray murmured in a voice lower than a whisper. Theora watched rapturously. Edison thankfully turned the camera away from Bryce and onto his own face, rage warring with a broken expression. His eyes lit up, blazing with internal flame.

        “Burgess was last seen this morning when he entered Network 23’s headquarters. He is presumed to have left later in the afternoon. He is about two meters tall, believed to weigh 62 kilograms, possesses sandy blond hair and blue eyes and was last seen wearing a gray suit. On behalf of Network 23, I ask each and every one of you to keep an eye out for this man, who’s got a hell of a lot to answer for. I ask you to overcome your very nature and walk boldly into the places you have been warned against since you were children. There is no reward for finding Burgess but the satisfaction of knowing that the life you saved may have been your own…” Edison swallowed, and then finished his statement in a strained voice. “Or Bryce Lynch’s.”

        The pause hung heavy in the air.

       “Once again, this is Edison Carter from Network 23.” The LIVE icon disappeared from the screen as the closing graphics were shown. Theora waited, because she saw that Edison hadn’t disconnected his vidicam’s link. Perhaps he had something to say. When the image of the medcen returned, the nurse had appeared and was bending over Bryce as the door opened and the Lynches rushed in, followed by the doctor. None of this immediately registered with Theora however, because the vidicam’s jiggling motion disturbed her. A second later she realized with much surprise that the image was shaking along with Edison’s hands. He turned around as soon as Bryce’s parents walked in, brushing past them to exit the room. His breathing was all that penetrated Theora’s ears.

         “Edison, are you all-” she began, only to cut herself off when Edison hauled the camera up to his eyes. There was no trace of depression, only molten anger and strong determination.

         “I’m going to get Alex for doing this to Bryce.” His words scalded Theora even through the distance. “Let the wisdom of the crowd point the way towards him. I’ll _murder_ him for hurting Bryce this bad.”

         Theora could only sit, shocked, as DISCONNECTED appeared on the screen and Edison’s face and voice were lost to her. At a loss, she glanced helplessly up at Murray, who sighed without looking at her.

         “I’ll deal with him when he gets back here. You can head home now. There’s been enough stress today without having to throw a murderous Edison Carter on top of it all.”

       Despite herself, Theora couldn’t help but emit one deep chuckle. “Thank you, Murray.” She turned away and gathered her scant personal belongings. “I do hope Bryce heals soon.”

       “So do I,” Murray muttered as Theora headed for the door, grateful for her early release but also deeply upset by the trauma of the day.

                                                                            *

         Theora was interested, but not really surprised, to find Kent standing outside her apartment complex once she got home. He melted out of the shadows to approach her with open arms and a worried expression. “I saw the news on 23. Are you all right?”

       Now that she was away from her duty to TV and from prying eyes, Theora felt the emotions that she had squished onto the head of a pin unfurl from within her. She accepted Kent’s arms and buried her face in his shoulder, whispering brokenly in his ear, “I’m fine, Kent, honestly…” But she wasn’t fine and he knew it. They rode up to Theora’s floor together, his grip like steel on her arm.

         Inevitably, their first time in Theora’s apartment together wound up as the first night Kent slept over. Theora wasn’t sure when the weeping transitioned into hungry kisses, but she ended up putting her pain into Kent as if he were a blank canvas, waiting to be filled with the fruit of her emotion. At the end of the act, she turned towards the nearest wall, away from the viewphone, with her head pounding and the words of a late-night soap opera ringing dully in her ears. She barely felt it when Kent wrapped his arms around her and held her ever so gently and sweetly all through the rest of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

       As soon as he had escaped Network 23’s imposing building, Alex DeLarge hit the ground running. He didn’t care who noticed his conspicuous exit as he raced down sidewalks and wound his way through the maze of alleyways behind civilian homes. The only thing on his mind was the instinct to run, run and hide, and stay hidden until he could control himself.

         Eventually Alex ran out of breath. He cowered behind the nearest stack of TVs and waited for his strength to return. The TVs chattered cacophonously, each one tuned to a different channel. Hatred seized Alex as he listened to the garbage they broadcast, but he quickly forced the emotion back. He had to calm down and become the respectable Alex Burgess once more.

        Finally Alex caught his breath and a hold on his sanity. He shoved away from the heap of TVs and began to walk, his mind turning over the events of the day. After living for years trying to quell his violent urges and present a “cured” persona to the world, he had finally snapped at the sight of an innocent young boy in such a high position of power. Just remembering Bryce’s bewildered face made Alex’s hands curl into fists. He kicked the wall to expel the energy that had built inside him, and listened for the sound of human voices. No one appeared to be around, so Alex continued to the end of the alley, stopping before he stepped out into the sunlight.

         Attacking the boy had been all fine and good, and it had provided Alex with a good bit of the old ultraviolence that he had desperately missed. But now that his head was clear, now that Network 23’s oppressive environment was behind him, the impact of what he had done began to catch up to him. He had raped an employee of one of the highest-level TV networks in the world, and for that there was sure to be serious consequences, especially if the boy didn’t survive. Alex realized at once that he couldn’t return to London, for as soon the network employees discovered Bryce, they would be on the lookout for the culprit- and Carter would know exactly who had done it. Furious at his loss of control, Alex growled sharply under his breath, turned to the wall, and combed his fingers violently through his hair. Soon it was as messy as it had been back when he was a ragged boy exploring the streets without a single care. It seemed like a world away from the esteemed government worker he had become, the mask he had grown to hate.

        As Alex racked his brain for how the hell he was supposed to prevent the Metrocops from finding him, an idea struck him like lightning. He would go to the Fringes. He would become that violent young boy once again, though of course he had to keep a low profile. Amidst the dreariness of the Fringes, which teemed with homelessness and poverty, Alex could disappear. If he found the right location, a place where the Metrocops would never set foot, he could hide indefinitely.

       And so Alex set off with a new swing in his step and a whistle at his lips, smiling his wide, demonic smile to anyone who was foolish enough to glance his way.

        By nightfall Alex found himself sitting at the crowded counter of a run-down bar, waiting impatiently to order a drink. Milk bars appeared to be either out of fashion or outlawed, for Alex hadn’t found a single one across the Fringes. At first he was disappointed, until remembering that he only attached such sentimentality to these mestos because they had let him loophole the laws of underage drinking. Now that Alex was old enough to drink alcohol, excitement built in his gut. He stared down the Fringers surrounding him and sneered whenever they got their drinks, their eyes lighting up as if they had seen Bog Himself. Apparently the Fringers didn’t use credit tubes, which had appealed to Alex immensely- he had never gotten the hang of those newfangled things. All it took for him to gain some quick, easy cash was a mugging, leaving the victim unconscious.

        While Alex waited to place his order and the drink-muddled Fringers crowed and shoved at his back, trying to jostle their way to the bar, his ears caught a snatch of dialogue from the TV that sat on a barrel behind him. He turned his head a fraction to see what was going on, for he could have sworn he had heard his own name. At once he was trapped by the virtual gaze of Edison Carter. Alex’s insides turned to ice, and his ears pricked to take in the report.

        “Burgess was last seen this morning when he entered Network 23’s headquarters. He is presumed to have left later in the afternoon. He is about two meters tall, believed to weigh 62 kilograms, possesses sandy blond hair and blue eyes and was last seen wearing a gray suit. On behalf of Network 23, I ask each and every one of you to keep an eye out for this man…”

        Alex tore his gaze from the TV and back to the bar, but inside his heart was pounding. He resisted the urge to glance nervously backwards- what if someone grew suspicious of his actions? From the one look he had initially cast towards the TV, he had noticed several patrons huddled around it intently- there always would be those addicts. Most seemed drunk and probably wouldn’t recognize Alex in the shady light of the bar. But recognizable or not, Alex knew that he had to get out of there. So much for enjoying his newfound freedom as an adult. Now that Carter had exposed him, the best thing to do was to duck and cover.

        Alex left the bar as well as he could- a mob of frustrated Fringers immediately slid into place to argue and jostle each other anew- and escaped into the streets, winding his way through the shadows that he found by second nature. Yes, it had been a long time since he had caused nightly panic and mayhem to spread throughout the city, but old habits die hard. Soon Alex’s jovial mood returned, and he smiled secretively to himself, though he was still privately concerned that Carter had released a description of him to the public. How was he to have any fun incognito if he ran a high risk of being arrested, more so now than in the past?

       As Alex slid among the shadows and slipped easily through crowds of people as if they were water, he began to notice the makeshift dwellings to each side of him. Many at first glance appeared to be only trash, but as Alex peered closer he saw that the piles of garbage were in fact cleverly modeled into miniature houses, for the people of the Fringes to live in fear of being swept up. He removed himself from the flow of people and studied the houses, a plan forming in his mind. Perhaps he could find one of these dwellings abandoned, and hole up there. It would certainly hold him for a while until he either established a new gang to protect him or found a better use for his time. Alex didn’t give his decision a second thought. He marched up to one of the ramshackle homes along the street side and entered it. It was just like entering a house on a surprise visit, only much easier to pull off.

       “Hey!” a voice rang out. Alex was startled to find the ground moving beneath his feet. “Who’s there?” He surged backward as a young woman rolled up from underneath him, drawing a shiv from her pocket, which she held threateningly towards him.

         “There is no like need to be poogly of me, my sister,” Alex found himself saying, dropping to his knees. The nadsat-talk flowed from him easily as if he hadn’t given it up a few years ago, his voice slipping into its authoritative, wonted accent. “I am merely like searching for a domy to stay the nochy in, as I do not like live around here and am very very lost all on my malenky oddy-knocky.”

        The woman’s mouth hardened, and Alex got the feeling she was narrowing her eyes beneath the dark glasses that she wore. She shook the blade in a way that clearly meant business, but just looked pathetic to Alex. “Well, you’d better leave. This is my house, and intruders are not welcome.”

        Alex cocked his head to gaze more intently at the woman’s shielded eyes. Could it be that she was… He darted in to yank the glasses from the woman’s face, leaning back as she lunged forward with the shiv. “HEY! Give those back!” Alex didn’t heed this demand. Instead he backed up to the entrance of the domy and watched the woman with interest. Her head swung back and forth, trying to determine where Alex had gone. One glance at her face revealed blank, unseeing eyes. A grin spread over Alex’s face, and he quickly tossed the glasses in his hand away. This woman would do, both to ensure his protection and perhaps for a bit of the old in-out-in-out.

         “What is your eemya, my sister?” Alex purred. The woman sat back on her heels, an angry expression filling her face. Her eyes were directed away from Alex as she spoke. “My _what?”_

“Your name, sweet thing,” Alex explained patiently. “What is your name?”

        “What’s it to you?” She spat on the ground. “I told you to get out.”

       Ah, a feisty devotchka. Alex couldn’t say they were his favorite type, but they did offer immense satisfaction when they surrendered, the fight draining out from their bodies. He came forward and knocked the woman over, using his weight to press her to the ground. “I will not do as you skazat, my sister, unless you do as _I_ skazat. Tell me, sweet vesch, what is your eemya?”

         She struggled furiously, but Alex reached for her blade and sharply nicked the back of her wrist. The woman cried out, more from surprise than pain, and Alex angrily slapped her across the face. “Shut your sodding rot! There’ll not be any creeching from you unless I tell you to. Now, for the last time- what is your eemya?”

        “P- Poncho,” she gasped, and Alex snorted. _A devotchka named “Poncho?”_ He was about to move for the kill when Poncho spoke up, her voice high with fright. “I know where you come from! You’re one of the boys from that gang that’s been in the news! You won’t get away with-”

         Alex roughly clapped his hand over Poncho’s mouth. “One more slovo, my sister, and you get the old in-out twice as hard. And if you ever go like running to the millicents, I will bash your brains out of your gulliver. You pony that, sweet vesch?” His voice was razor-sharp. Poncho did nothing but lie there, fear running across her face. Alex took her cooperativeness as the sign to begin. He leaned in and cupped her face in both hands, his mouth inches away from her tender lips.

       “You, dear Poncho, will be, shall we skazat, a real horrorshow lay.” He kissed her and Poncho’s world went black.

                                                                          *

        Sun rose upon the city that had once again become a place of terror, and a million TVs were there to greet it. Max Headroom zipped across networks using his access to the city’s mainframe as a portal. He emerged during a lull in Network 23’s broadcasting to chatter away to anyone awake at that hour- mainly TV technicians, finishing up their all-nighters.

        “It’s a n-n-n-new day, people! The sun-sun-sun is shining, the b-b-birds are singing- or at least they w-w-would-w-would be if it weren’t for the p- the p- the p-pollution. Ah, g-g-good old mankind, destroying ev-ev-everything it deems useless-u-useless!” Max grinned sardonically and proceeded with his morning report.

        “In other n-n-news, Network 23-23-23 is experiencing a slump in ratings-r-r-ratings!” He gazed into the dreary eyes of his small audience, counting up their apathy in a millisecond before continuing with, “Not that a-a-anyone cares about th- _that_ …”

                                                                        *

        When Theora awoke, it took her a moment to realize why she was so cold under her blanket- Kent was gone. She rolled over, hazily calling his name- but the only response was from her bedside viewphone. Someone was frantically trying to call her. Hurriedly, Theora bound the blanket around herself, not caring if her bare arms gave away the action from the night before. For all she knew, Kent was the one trying to call her.

         “Theora.” Murray’s face appeared onscreen, and Theora felt herself deflate, before remembering that she was essentially naked in front of her boss, despite covering her chest. She took a second to get her bearings. “…Yes?”

         “I’m down here at 23 with Edison, and I’d like if you could join us as soon as you can,” Murray informed Theora. “Apparently there’s been a bit of a ratings slump, and the folks upstairs are worried.”

       Theora blinked. “After last night’s broadcast?” Then Murray’s initial statement caught up to her. “When did Edison arrive?”

         “It looks as if he’s been here ever since last night,” Murray said.

          “Why ‘looks as if?’”

       Murray hesitated. “Well, as far as I know he didn’t go home last night, and he was asleep at your workstation when I came in this morning. He’s being… difficult.”

       Concern filled Theora’s heart. Only once had she seen Edison stay overnight at Network 23, after his friend Paddy Ashton had been killed. He’d woken in a surly, driven mood, and Theora doubted this time was any different. She nodded briskly to Murray, a complex feat when half of her head was still buried in the pillow. “I’ll be right there.”

       “Thank you,” Murray said, disconnecting the call. Theora pushed herself up and gazed around the room, searching for a sign Kent might have left behind to explain why he’d headed out so early. His clothes had been removed from the floor, leaving Theora’s in a pile at the foot of the bed. No messages appeared on the viewphone’s screen.

         At first Kent’s disappearance was crushing, but Theora quickly reminded herself that if Murray had called her and found her with Kent, the situation would have been extremely awkward. She could only thank God that Edison hadn’t been the one to call her. Even without the presence of Kent, he would have read meanings into Theora’s appearance on which he definitely didn’t need to dwell. She would have to wait to reveal her relationship until Bryce had recovered and Alex had been apprehended. _Assuming Kent and I are still together by then._ With thoughts of her boyfriend dancing through her head, Theora put on the diamond necklace he had given her and walked out the door without looking back.

                                                                             *

        When Theora arrived at Network 23, Murray tried to greet her and explain the situation she had just walked into, but Theora brushed past him and headed straight to her workstation. She found Edison staring dully at her terminal, even though the screen was black. He didn’t look up as Theora came over and asked gently, “How are you?,” but his answer was scathing.

       “Despite the fact that one of our friends is in catatonic shock because an ex-criminal raped him, I’m _absolutely_ _fine.”_

_He certainly has a flair for stating the obvious_ , Theora thought. Murray beckoned her over to whisper lowly in her ear.

       “He was talking about finding Alex Burgess and killing him when he came back last night. I tried to calm him down and talk some sense into him, but it was hard. I think you’re going to find him tough to work with today.”

         Theora tried not to sound sarcastic as she thanked Murray- he wasn’t as attuned to Edison’s behavior as she was. “So tell me- how can there be a ratings slump after last night’s broadcast? We pulled it off flawlessly.”

       Murray shrugged. “There was a surge in views after the broadcast, but they went down later on, right before I went home. We suffered the usual nightly decline, but instead of climbing back up come morning, the ratings flatlined.” He sighed through his teeth. “It’s unthinkable to lose viewers on the heels of a successful broadcast.”

         “Maybe the subject matter was too uncomfortable for most viewers?” Theora suggested.

         “Or maybe,” Edison spoke up from his seat at the terminal, “Cheviot and Co. are making too big a deal out of this.”

        Murray turned towards Edison. “If it’s a big deal to them, it’s automatically a big deal to us. The ratings-”

         “Oh, fuck the ratings,” Edison grumbled. A shocked silence fell. Theora couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Edison had always toed the line between respecting his network and disagreeing with its policies, but she had never heard him utter such a blasphemous statement before.

         “Excuse me, Edison,” Murray finally said in a tone of warning. “What did you say?”

          Edison’s eyes fired bullets as he stared harshly at Murray. “You heard me.” He rose from his seat. “The ratings don’t matter. Our reputation doesn’t matter. What _matters_ is finding Alexander Burgess and bringing him to justice.”

       “Those are pretty strong words for a network employee,” Murray murmured, stepping forward. The intent was clear, but Edison just shrugged. “Come on, admit it, Murray. A man has committed a terrible crime, and if we’re hung up on worrying over our network’s reputation, we’ll never find him and prosecute him.  That’s _far_ more important in the grand scheme of things than how many people are tuning in to our network. Until we find Alex Burgess, everything’s headed to the backburner. Our network will survive for another day.”

        “Reputation…” Theora murmured. A thought rapidly leapt into her head. “What if the ratings slump has occurred because someone leaked the fact that we willingly let Alex Burgess under our roof? Hearing something like that might cause others to watch more reputable networks.”

        “But who would have found out?” Murray said, before a nearby employee approached and tapped him on the arm. “There’s a call on the viewphone for you, sir.”

          “I’ll be right there,” Murray replied, and the employee departed. Murray gazed evenly at Theora and Edison. “As long go after Alex Burgess without the intent of killing him- while keeping the ratings in mind- I’m fine with whatever you do. Just remember, you’re a reporter, not a vigilante.” With that, he headed off to his office. Theora bit the inside of her cheek as Edison’s cool eyes turned onto her for the first time that day.

       “You weren’t really thinking of killing him, were you?” she said by way of greeting. Edison hastily shook his head, his blue eyes sparking. “Of course not. That’s someone else’s job, not mine.” He moved aside so that Theora could take a seat in front of her terminal.

         “So you think Alex deserves the death penalty?” To even use that phrase was strange. The death penalty hadn’t been prescribed for years and years, and only in the most extreme cases. Of course, no recent crimes had been as bad as the teenage gangs’, thanks to the power of network TV.

       Edison shook his head firmly and moved closer to Theora, watching as she roused her terminal from its slumber. “As much as he deserves it, I know it’s never going to happen. But we need to ensure he’s put in prison for life. There’s going to be hell to pay once the Metrocops find him.”

       Theora nodded absently, her mind already drifting. Without a second thought, she found herself searching up the Ludovico treatment. Edison noticed as he peered down at her. “I thought you said yesterday you didn’t find any relevant results.”

         Theora only shrugged and waited for her search to load. “I have a feeling…” Once the results appeared, she added a few key words- “criminals,” “Alexander Burgess.” Presently a file popped up, which she opened and read silently to herself, hardly daring to hope that this might be the key.

       _The Ludovico Experiment, commonly referred to as the Ludovico Treatment or Ludovico Technique, was a test developed to “cure” convicted criminals of their evil habits by triggering a Pavlovian response. Originally created to relieve overcrowding in London’s State Jail, the treatment consisted of strapping a person down to a chair, pulling back their eyelids (and administering eye droplets when needed throughout the test), and playing explicitly graphic films, with such subject matter as rape, physical abuse, and disrespect for public property. Before showing the subject these films, he or she would be given a shot of a drug, which would cause the subject to feel physically ill as he or she watched. Repeated viewings of this sort caused the subject to recall the effects of the drug whenever they thought about violence, thus rendering them incapable of performing violent acts. Now harmless, the subject would be released from the State Jail to lead a normal life._

_The experiment was only performed once, on Gramodisc Archivist Alexander Burgess. Due to a negative reaction, the Ludovico treatment has been discontinued._

Theora gazed up to find Edison staring at her. They didn’t move for a long moment before Theora said, “If you’re looking to give Alex hell, I think I know where you can start.”

        Just then Murray arrived at the scene, flustered. Theora and Edison drew close to hear what he had to say.

         “It looks like we’ve got good news and bad news, team,” Murray said, patting his pockets. “The bad news is that the Metrocops received an order from their superiors to call off the search for Alex Burgess.”

          “What?!” Edison blurted, filled with rage in the blink of an eye. “Who would _do_ that? I gave his description last night to an audience of thousands!”

       “The chief of the Metrocops wouldn’t tell me who had given the order,” Murray said, fixing a hard stare at Edison. “All I know is that the search is off for now, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

        “And the good news?” Theora said quietly. Murray’s face lightened a bit for the first time since Bryce had been found incapacitated in his studio. “The good news is that the med center called. They informed me that Bryce is lucid and speaking, although he appears to be disoriented and is still in some pain. His parents have been notified, but the doctor said that you’re also free to visit him, if you want.” He nodded in Edison’s direction, but Edison shook his head.

         “Right now I think it would be best to respect their privacy. But you’re right, Murray- that’s great news.” His eyes flashed, not with angry energy, but with relief. His lips, while not entirely turning up into a smile, curled back from his teeth.

       “I hope Bryce is all right, dealing with what he’s been through,” Theora murmured. Personally she was surprised to hear that he had recovered so quickly, even if he was “disoriented.” “He’s so sheltered…” Did Bryce even understand what had happened to him?

       Murray looked over at Theora. “You can visit him, if you want.”

       “And leave my post?” Theora said, indicating her seat at the terminal. Murray shrugged. “I would go down to see him myself, but you know how I feel about hospitals.”

         “Just make sure you don’t linger,” Edison instructed Theora. “I’m definitely going to need you back here soon. Scope out the situation down at the med center and let me know what’s going on as soon as you get back.”

        Theora laughed. “So we’re talking role reversal here? You’ll act as my controller while I go out into the world?”

       “Yes,” Edison said seriously, before laughing too. “Just don’t intrude on the Lynches’ privacy.”

        “You don’t have to tell me,” Theora sighed. “I got the message from last night’s broadcast.”

          Edison didn’t relay any further information, so Theora breezed out the door, anticipation building. She was both apprehensive and thrilled at the thought of seeing Bryce alive and well.

                                                                                      *

         But seeing Bryce didn’t happen right away. As soon as Theora checked into the med center and explained her object of visitation, she had to endure a few minutes of waiting outside Bryce’s room for his parents to leave. As she waited, she stared at the foreboding door- it was a long time since she had been anywhere on her own during working hours. Stretching her legs felt good, but she also felt too exposed when she wasn’t behind the monstrous terminal.

          Soon a nurse approached the closed door and cracked it open, calling, “Mr. and Mrs. Lynch?” Presently Bryce’s parents peeped through the crack in the door, looking respectively distressed and mistrusting.

          “There’s a call on the viewphone for you,” the nurse explained. “Or rather for Bryce, but I don’t think he’s in a state to answer. If you’ll just come this way…”

          The Lynches hurriedly said goodbye to their unseen son and stepped out of the room. Theora came forward to address the nurse. “Excuse me, ma’am- may I visit Bryce now?”

          “Who are you?” Mr. Lynch growled, his brow furrowing as he tried to decide whether or not Theora was a reporter. Slightly self-conscious, Theora ran her fingers through her hair. “My name is Theora Jones, and I’ve worked closely with Bryce in the past… I’m a friend of his,” she stated quickly before Mr. Lynch could turn away in disgust. “I just came by to see how he’s doing.”

          “Bryce has never mentioned you to us before,” Mr. Lynch said, his eyes narrowing. Theora squared her shoulders, refraining from pointing out that Bryce hadn’t spoken to his parents since leaving ACS. _If he mentioned me, he must have been clairvoyant._

 “I assure you, my intentions are not to exploit Bryce. I’m just as concerned about him as you are.”

           “You may go in, Miss Jones,” the nurse jumped in, eager to prevent an argument. “Come on now, Mr. Lynch, surely you don’t want to keep your caller waiting?”

          “Thank you,” Theora murmured, seeking the open door as a means of escape from Mr. Lynch’s murderous eyes. She closed the door behind her and let the breath in her cheeks out in a _whoosh._ Bryce was sitting up in bed before her, his head cocked at the sound of her entrance. It had been a while since Theora had seen Bryce in person, and she found her heart swelling with warmth as he stared at her in confusion.

          “Hello,” Bryce greeted Theora uncertainly, squinting in order to see her better. “Who is it? I’m sorry, I- I can’t see you very well without my glasses.”

         “Bryce,” Theora whispered, rushing to his side. “Bryce, it’s Theora. Are you all right? How are you feeling?”

            Bryce frowned upon hearing Theora’s name, and shrugged at her question. “I… I’m not sure how to answer. Are you a nurse? Can you tell me what’s happened to me and why I’m at the medcen? No one else will, not even my parents. They said I’ve been in some sort of accident, but they won’t elaborate.”

        Surprised, Theora stepped back to get a close look at Bryce’s face. Band-Aids were still stuck awkwardly to his cheeks and forehead, although it looked as if last night’s had been swapped.

        “No, Bryce, I’m not a nurse. It’s me, Theora, from Network 23. You remember, don’t you? I’m Edison’s controller.”

          “Network 23?” Bryce repeated, as if he had never heard the name before. “I’m sorry, I don’t watch the news very often.” His eyes lit up. “Are you here to interview me?”

           “…No, no,” Theora mumbled faintly, realization beginning to dawn. “I… I just came to see if you were okay.” She stood in place, unsure of whether to call the nurse back in or remain at Bryce’s side. God knew he needed someone now more than ever.

         “Oh.” Confusion reigned on Bryce’s face, but he managed to give a shaky smile. “Well, that’s nice of you. Though I still don’t know what they’re fussing over.”

         Theora nodded and crept towards the door. “I’m sorry, I don’t know any more than you do, but- but I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” She inched her fingers towards the doorknob. “I’m going to talk to the nurse, all right?”

         “All right,” Bryce said, settling down in his bed. “It was nice to meet you, Theora.”

          Theora nodded and then, as calmly as she could, fled the room. She closed the door behind her and took a few deep breaths through her nose, trying to collect her scattered nerves. What had happened to Bryce? As much as she didn’t want to think about it, several long-dead memories of her time spent in homeless shelters as a child began to crawl back to her. She fought the urge to recognize Bryce’s symptoms. This was a completely different situation than it had been back then…

           “Nurse!” Theora cried in a shrill voice, startling even her as the nurse that had guided the Lynches to the viewphone came over. “Yes?”

       “What’s wrong with the patient in this room?” Theora blurted. “He didn’t recognize me, even though we’re-” Was _friends_ too strong a word? “-acquaintances, and he didn’t seem to remember that he works for Network 23.”

          The nurse hesitated. “I’m sorry, but for more information you’ll have to talk to the doctor.” She bustled off, leaving Theora utterly confused. After a few seconds she whirled down the hall in the direction that the nurse had just come from. It wasn’t long before she found the Lynches arguing on the viewphone, while the doctor she’d seen in Edison’s broadcast last night looked on. Theora approached her, flashing a stare that she hoped meant business.

       “Excuse me, ma’am,” Theora said, quietly enough that Bryce’s parents weren’t be distracted from their call. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong with your patient Bryce Lynch?” She repeated the ailments that she had noticed to the doctor, who listened patiently before replying, shaking her head sadly as she spoke.

          “Due to the trauma Bryce has suffered as a result of his attack, we believe he’s mentally regressed. He has reverted back to a happier, simpler time in his life. It’s unclear as of now what stimuli will cause him to snap out of it, so to speak.”

          Theora’s heart skipped a beat as she absorbed the doctor’s diagnosis. _Poor Bryce…_ She thanked the doctor hastily and walked away, her mind filling once more with memories from her past. So she had recognized the symptoms… Bryce’s condition brought to mind some of the traumatized, scarred children in the shelters where she had lived, forgetting the names of the people around them or even how to speak. They had become innocent, children whose only ability was to sit contentedly and watch TV. Theora hadn’t realized it at the time, being more concerned for her friends’ immediate welfare than their future, but in most causes nothing could be done for these children. They usually ended up living in the shelter until their early deaths.

          With a shudder, Theora emerged from her dark reminiscing just in time to hear Mr. Lynch declare, “We are taking Bryce home and that’s final!” Hesitantly curious, she peered over at the viewphone- and was shocked to see Murray’s face on the screen.

         “Murray?” Theora blurted, rushing towards the viewphone. Her sudden appearance startled the Lynches, who let her pass. Murray’s eyes were wide as Theora came to a halt.

         “What’s going on here?” Theora demanded to know, glancing from face to virtual face. Mr. Lynch was the first to speak, his voice scalding.

       “This Murray fellow here has called to tell us that Bryce’s employer wants him to come back to work right away. But there’s no way he can work in his condition!”

       “I’m sorry,” Murray stated for what sounded like the hundredth time. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but Cheviot’s orders must be obeyed.”

        “Has your Cheviot come down to see Bryce at all?” Mr. Lynch sneered. “I’m sure he would agree with us if he knew what a state Bryce is in. He has go to home with us. It’s the only way he can recover.”

        “Why does Cheviot want Bryce immediately?” Theora asked Murray, a cold sensation settling in her gut. Mr. Lynch was exactly right- there was no way that Bryce could work in his regressed condition. “Can’t he just hire a volunteer from ACS?”

         “Bryce, as we all know, is at the top of his game,” Murray explained. “And the sudden ratings slump has made Cheviot fearful of losing more employees. He wants his entire staff to work on solving the problem, whether or not they’re… out of commission.” A pained expression filled his face. “Believe me, if it was my decision, Bryce would have all the time in the world to recover.”

        Theora didn’t say anything as she mulled over the pieces of the puzzle. She was sure that Cheviot wanted Bryce back so soon in order to downplay what had happened to him. His return to work would prove that he was healed, re-attracting the viewers who had ditched 23 out of the blue. She glanced at the Lynches to see if they had anything more to say. Bryce’s mother spoke up.

        “I don’t care how much power Cheviot has,” she said in a quavering voice. “I don’t care how badly he needs Bryce. We haven’t seen our son in years, and now that he’s mentally incapable of performing his duties to the network, it’s only fair for us take him home. It’s the only way he’ll be able to recuperate…” But she glanced about herself nervously, and Theora understood that she was worried Bryce would never recover. He might even lose his job, which would prove a hard blow for the family.

        “Well, I’m sorry, Mrs. Lynch, but I have to do what my superiors tell me,” Murray said, obviously loathing his own words. “As soon as Bryce is discharged from the med center-”

        “I’ll take him,” Theora spoke up. All eyes, even Murray’s, snapped onto her.

         “What are you talking about?” Mr. Lynch said, bemused.

         “I…” Theora floundered for a second, knowing full well that her decision was impulsive, but as soon as she had said the words she knew they were right. “I said I’ll take Bryce home with me if that’s all right with you. I’m familiar with his condition and I think I know how to help him.”

           “But we don’t even know who you are,” Mrs. Lynch said, a touch of stress in her voice.

           “But,” Murray said, “you have to admit it’s a fair compromise.”

         There was a tense silence, and then Mr. Lynch threw his hands in the air. “All right. All right, all right. Miss, er…”

         “Jones, but you can call me Theora,” Theora said.

         “Theora.” Mr. Lynch relaxed a tiny bit. “If you say you can help Bryce, I’ll entrust you with him. Just promise me you won’t resort to any… extreme methods.”

        Theora shook her head violently. “I would never do anything to harm your son. He’s a good friend to me and to Edison Carter. I promise to try everything I can to bring him back to himself, and I’ll make sure he gets to see you once he’s healed.” There was no way she could promise that Bryce would get to go home with his parents. More than likely Cheviot would want him back as soon as he’d made a full recovery.

         “So this is fine with everyone?” Murray spoke up, and everyone returned their gazes to the viewphone. “Do you have the proper accommodations, Theora?”

        “Yes,” Theora replied, nodding her head. She would have to tell Kent to stay away for a bit, but it didn’t hurt her to think of not seeing him. Bryce’s health was far more important.

       “I’m sure we can make arrangements for the doctor to send Bryce your way as soon as it’s possible for him to leave the hospital,” Mrs. Lynch said to Theora. “It means so much to me, and to William here, that you’re offering to do this for us. I can’t express how grateful I am.”

       “Oh, it’s nothing,” Theora replied automatically, hoping that the expression on her face conveyed the appropriate warmth. “Like I said, I’ve had experience with… cases like these. Your son is in good hands.”

       Murray sighed through the viewphone, more relieved to have figured out the situation than irritated. “It’s all settled, then. I’ll call Cheviot and tell him that you’re taking Bryce home with you. He’ll have to sort out the ratings battle himself. Bryce needs the time to recover.”

        “Thank you,” said Theora. “Could you please inform Edison as soon as possible?”

        Murray surprised her by smiling humorously, and just barely within earshot Theora heard the unmistakable tones of Edison’s laughter.

         “He’s right in the room with me,” Murray said. “Message received.” Though he didn’t mention it, Theora got the feeling that Edison wasn’t making an appearance at the viewphone because he didn’t want to tick off the Lynches again.

        “Thank you,” Theora said, before nodding to the Lynches. “And thank you for letting your son stay with me.” They exchanged parting words and then Theora took off back down the corridor, her mind spinning. She paused as she passed Bryce’s room, but decided against entering it, not sure if she would be able to handle seeing Bryce immediately. It was best to save that for later, when Bryce would arrive at her apartment and she had all the time in the world to coax him from his mental retreat.


	7. Chapter 7

        “But why can’t I just come over? I won’t even stay the night…”

       Theora absently bit her lower lip as she watched Kent’s face change from joyful to judgmental in the blink of an eye. It was a miracle that Murray had let her use the viewphone in his office, and that was only because she had lied and told him she was calling someone to clean her apartment in preparation for Bryce’s stay. That was work-related. Kent wasn’t. And yet Theora felt the need to warn him of her impending houseguest, a shell-shocked rape victim in need of Theora’s care. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder before explaining again why he couldn’t show up at her place that night. Why was Kent making this difficult?

       “Kent, I told you already that I don’t think it’s a good idea for Bryce to be around men whom he doesn’t know. I’m trying to avoid setting off a trigger, which could cause him to regress further.”

       “But don’t you need me at all?” Kent asked, a note of desperation appearing in his voice. “I mean… God, I feel odd discussing this over the phone, but… Theora, last night was great, and it could have been even better without this tragedy hanging over it. After last night, I can’t continue to spend the nights alone at my crummy apartment. I have to see you more often.”

       _Then why did you leave me so early?,_ Theora thought, but she didn’t bring it up. She also decided not to point out that Kent seemed more interested in scoring with her than helping her tend to Bryce.

        “I’m sorry, Kent. Ordinarily I would love to see you, but not while I have Bryce staying with me. I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to the fact that my work doesn’t allow many chances for personal meetings.”

        Kent stared through the screen, and for a moment Theora thought that he might actually declare the relationship over. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had left her standing in the dust after taking what he wanted from her. But instead of hardening, Kent let out a wistful sigh and said, “I understand, but it doesn’t make me want you any less.”

         “You’re just going to have to deal with it,” Theora said, already itching for the conversation to end. Murray would be suspicious if her conversation with the “cleaner’s” ran overtime, although she doubted he would go as far as to retrace the call. “I have to go now, Kent. I’m sorry. I love you.”

         Kent’s eyes were still dissatisfied, but all he said was “I love you too, Theora,” before disconnecting the viewphone. Theora stood up and left the office, returning to her spot by the terminal where Edison was waiting. He tried to bounce a joke off of her- “My, you must be very picky when it comes to housecleaning-” but gave up when he noticed how distracted she was. Theora refused to look at Edison as she resumed her position at the terminal and asked him what he planned on doing that day. She was afraid that meeting his eyes might bring her lie to light. Memories from the nightmarish day before, when Edison had almost kissed her, swarmed her head, and she tried to shut them out. Edison meant nothing to her. He was a reporter that Theora had to control, and that was all.

        It turned out that Edison had planned an exhaustive day, though all activities had to be crammed into a few hours due to Theora’s lost time at the medcen. For those few blissful hours, Theora submerged herself in watching her reporter go above and beyond his duty to the law. Edison went down to the Metropolice first and asked who had sent the orders to call off the search for Alex, only to find that this was highly guarded, classified information. No matter how many biting questions he asked, the Metrocops refused to release a word. The rest of the time was spent going rogue, scouting the city for any passersby who might have seen Alex Burgess. Many of the people Edison interviewed were amicable and genuinely interested, which lifted Theora’s spirits, but an alarming few spat when Edison came their way and launched into diatribes against Network 23. “That feature you did last night was just wrong!” one exclaimed as Edison passed him. “I’ve never seen anything more exploitative!”

        “He’s got to be kidding me,” Edison muttered to Theora, who made an _mm_ sound in sympathy. “I guess we now know why Network 23 is getting low ratings today.” _Although I don’t know why they care so much, considering the tripe that’s broadcast on rival channels._

Theora was concerned as Edison headed into the Fringes. The environment was a rough one that was bound to suit Alex Burgess’ nature. She almost warned Edison to be careful before remembering that he tended to get out of scrapes all right. The only times she had been genuinely concerned for his welfare were when he tried Neurostim for the first time, and on the day they’d met, when he was knocked off of a motorcycle and taken to the nearest body bank. Out in the Fringes, Edison attempted to talk to person after person, only for each person to either flip him off or refuse to answer. “You knew it wasn’t going to be easy around here,” Theora sighed after this had continued for several minutes.

        “Hey, I wasn’t expecting much,” Edison said, a razor tone buried in his voice. “But we’ve got to do it, Control. If Alex Burgess is still in the city, he must be hiding somewhere in the Fringes.”

       Theora was glad when Edison was finally called back to Network 23. While she waited for his return, she pored over with Murray what little information he had uncovered. Then he sent her to the viewphone for an unexpected call from the med center.

         “Yes?” Theora said as soon as she sat down, recognizing the doctor on screen. The doctor greeted her with a nod. “Bryce is ready for you, if you’re ready for him. He’s all patched up and eager to go home.” Theora’s eyes implored the doctor to proceed, and wariness flickered in her eyes.

        “Before we send Bryce over, I’d like to know if you’re fully prepared to be his caretaker. Any wrong move could shatter him and cause him to retreat further into himself.”

       “I’m not going to hurt him,” Theora swore. “I’ll try my best to bring him back to himself with as little trauma as possible.” _And then,_ she thought, _he’ll be ready to testify against Alex Burgess, once we find him._ Though she only cared about Bryce’s well-being, she couldn’t help but think of several people who’d be anxious for Bryce to recover in order for him to explain his side of the story.

        The doctor nodded. “Well, in that case he’s all yours. If you’ll call us when you get home, we’ll make sure to deliver Bryce to you as soon as possible.”

        Theora nodded. “All right. And what are you going to tell him about his new lodgings?”

        “The nurse will explain that he’s to stay with the woman he met today for further recuperation,” the doctor said. “He’s not well enough to go home yet.”

         “Thank you,” sad Theora. “I’ll be sure to call once I’m home.”

       “Thank _you,”_ the doctor said, and disconnected the call. Theora emerged from the call with a positive outlook, though she wasn’t completely content. Bryce’s road to recovery would be a dark one, and while Theora wasn’t looking forward to the night ahead, she was pleased that the doctor at the med center trusted her enough to house their special patient.

        “What did she say?” Edison greeted Theora as she returned to her workstation, Murray hovering over his shoulder. Theora blinked, and then laughed at him. “When did you get here?”

          “About a minute ago,” Edison replied. “Murray told me that the medcen contacted you.”

        “They did,” Theora confirmed, “and they’re going to let Bryce stay at my apartment tonight as per my request.” She shifted past him to get to her terminal and begin to pack up her personal items. “It’s been a dismal day on the reporting front, but at least Bryce is getting the care he needs.”

         “The sooner he recovers, the better,” Murray agreed. “Cheviot will be pacified, and we can hear his version of the events.” Theora didn’t allow her reaction to show on her face, but internally she gave an exhaustive sigh. So Murray was one of the many itching to hear Bryce’s tale in his own words. Although he had been the first to find Bryce after the attack, she wondered if he truly cared for Bryce after all.

       “How do you know what to do for him, Theora?” Edison asked, moving closer so that he could hear her better. Their shoulders nearly touched, and Theora felt warmth radiating from him. She didn’t move away- it felt perfectly natural to stand beside him- but she didn’t look at him when she replied. “It’s a condition I recognize from the shelter I lived in when I was a girl.”

       Sensing that Theora didn’t want to discuss her personal life, Edison wisely chose not to pursue the topic. “Is it all right with you if I… pop by later tonight?” His eyes were upon her, waiting until Theora met his gaze. “I want to help with Bryce’s recovery in any way that I can.”

        Reading Edison’s large blue eyes, Theora knew exactly why he wanted to see Bryce that night. He wanted to apologize properly for allowing Alex to tour Network 23. She nodded stiffly before looking away again. “Thank you, Edison. I’d appreciate the help.”

         Soon the three network employees parted ways. Theora was the first to head home, her mind focused on how to heal Bryce. Truth be told, it hadn’t been all that easy when she had tried to help her regressed friends. The comfort usually consisted of hugging them and trying to remind them who they were, with varying degrees of success. In the face of severe trauma, tender loving care rarely had much of an effect.

         _But,_ she thought, _it’s worth a shot on Bryce. He’s got to come back to himself, for the sake of his job and, more importantly, his family._ The likes of which she had never had.

                                                                      *

        Back at her apartment, Theora informed the med center that she was ready to receive Bryce. There were approximately thirty minutes to complete the light cleaning about which she had lied to Murray. First Theora straightened the rumpled sheets on her bed and arranged each pillow just so. Then she wiped down the tabletop where she took her meals, vacuumed the rug, and brewed a fresh mug of tea, before sitting down to wait for the inevitable.

       And then Kent walked right through the door.

        Theora was out of her seat in a flash, slamming her mug down hard on the table. “Kent! What do you think you’re doing here?”

         “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily,” Kent sang cheerfully, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry, Theora, but I had to see you tonight.” He came forward, his body warm and inviting, and for just a second Theora’s mind wandered with temptation. She wondered if it would be possible to slip in a quick one before Bryce arrived- but rationality soon returned. Instead of kissing Kent as he clasped his arms around her waist, Theora tried unsuccessfully to push him back towards the door. “You need to leave, Kent. Bryce Lynch is coming over here in just a few minutes…”

         “What?” Kent sulked, pulling away and pushing his lower lip out in a mock-pout. “You’re not even going to let me stay for a cuppa? I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”

         “I-” Theora closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before expelling it with a _whoosh._ “Under normal circumstances, I would be, Kent. But… I’m sorry, I can’t deal with this tonight.”

        Kent looked as if he were about to say more, but a _bzzz_ at the door diverted their respective attentions. Theora whirled towards the door and checked the vidscreen to see who had arrived. A medcen nurse and Bryce Lynch, wearing a new pair of glasses and a blank expression, stared expectantly back at her.

          “Get back,” Theora murmured to Kent. She opened the door wide without checking to see that he had followed her instruction. A smile plastered itself across her face as she saw Bryce, who beamed back without recognition.

        “Good evening,” the nurse greeted Theora, smiling warmly, and Theora repeated the phrase. “This is where you’re going to stay the night, Bryce.”

        “All right,” he said, gazing about his surroundings with the wide, naïve eyes of a boy younger than seventeen. Theora felt a pang in her heart, but she didn’t let her smile waver. “It’s lovely to have you here. Come on in!” As she gestured Bryce through the door, Theora swept the main room with her eyes. Kent wasn’t anywhere in sight. Presumably he had retreated to the kitchen area, awaiting Theora’s instructions. Theora turned back to the nurse, thanked her for bringing Bryce over, and closed the door.

         Bryce set his suitcase on the floor- evidently one that his parents had packed for him- and began to drink in the apartment’s fancy trappings, in wonderment. “Wow…” he murmured under his breath, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the opulent bed and the car that Theora kept parked beside it. When he turned and caught Theora watching him intently, he gave a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never been to this part of the city before!”

        _You_ live _here,_ Theora’s mind screamed, but she held her tongue. Slowly she crept towards the kitchen area, careful not to alert Bryce as to what she was doing. She had to get to Kent before Bryce noticed him…

          “Wow!” Bryce repeated, heading straight for Theora’s bed, and Theora breathed a small sigh of relief. “This bed is huge!” He rushed towards it, before freezing and glancing guiltily to Theora. “Do you mind if I-”

         “Of course you can sit down,” Theora laughed. As soon as Bryce’s back was to her, she darted into the kitchen area, where Kent was hovering in a corner. He caught her arms as soon as she came close enough. “Theora-” But Theora wouldn’t allow him to hold her. She tugged him towards the door, hissing all the while, “Make sure that Bryce doesn’t see you…”

        “Hm?” Bryce said, turning around. Theora, for all her haste, couldn’t get Kent out the door quickly enough. They froze, and Kent offered Bryce a sheepish smile. Bryce did not return it, staring blankly at Kent.

         “This is my boyfriend, Kent,” Theora explained in a false cheery tone. “He’s just leaving now.” She nudged Kent’s arm, and he got the hint, moving towards the door.

       “It’s nice to meet you, Bryce. Pity I have to go now.” Kent laughed, but Bryce only continued to stare, fixated on Kent. Theora sucked in a deep breath as Kent opened the door and left.

        “I-” A change had fallen over Bryce. His mouth moved laxly, but he couldn’t seem to find the words that would fit it. Closing his mouth, he blinked slowly.

         “It’s all right,” Theora murmured, crossing the floor to sit down on the bed beside Bryce. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you there would be a visitor.” _Because I didn’t know._ “But now it’s just us.”

        “Just us…” Bryce repeated, without looking at Theora. He clenched his hands together in his lap. Sneaking a peek, Theora noticed that his hands were shaking. His face had gone pale as he tried desperately to distract himself.

         The TV flickered suddenly, and Theora burst from her seat in a panic without even realizing her actions. A startled gasp rose in her throat. Her mind went into an immediate string of prayer- _Oh God, please don’t let it break down, don’t let there be anything wrong-_

The image went static for a second, and Theora nearly had a heart attack. On the bed, the already-tense Bryce cringed. He peeped fearfully out from beneath his glasses, whispering meekly, “Theora?”

       “Yes, Bryce?” Theora replied, her eyes on the TV but her mind returning to her guest.

        “I- I think I can fix that, if you want…”

       Theora contemplated whether it was worth letting a mentally-regressed Bryce have a look at her TV set, but then the image flickered again and the desperation inside of her grew too much to bear. She nodded to Bryce. “Go ahead.”

        Bryce got up and slunk around to the TV, where he began to study the its parts. Theora sat down on her bed and watched Bryce with her heart in her throat. At one point it seemed as if the TV would do the unthinkable and switch off (and if that came to be, Theora would have to pack her bags and leave for prison immediately), but suddenly it flickered back to the life, the picture and audio as clear as ever before. Theora released a deep sigh and smiled rewardingly at Bryce as he made his way back to the bed. “Where did you learn to fix a TV like that?”

         Bryce frowned and avoided Theora’s glance as he answered. “I just learned it recently… My family’s always having problems with their set at home, and they need me to keep it running…” He trailed off and looked down at his feet, hanging off the edge of the bed. Theora guessed that he was trying to recall memories that weren’t real.

        “Bryce,” she said gently, resisting the urge to lean closer. “How old are you?”

         “Nine,” he replied, looking up at last. “Why?”

        Theora’s heart sunk like a stone, but she didn’t let Bryce catch on to her feelings. “I was just wondering.”

         A minute later Theora got up and went back to the kitchen area. A warm mug of tea still sat on the tabletop. She took the mug in both hands and inhaled its herbal scent. “Would you like anything to eat, Bryce? I can make you some tea if you want.”

        “No thanks,” he said nonchalantly. “I had dinner at the medcen. Actually I’m kind of sleepy right now.” He gazed hopefully at the bed, and Theora couldn’t help but indulge him. “In that case, feel free to get changed and sleep in my bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

         Bryce’s eyes lit up. “You’ll really let me sleep in your bed? Thank you, Theora! How come you’re so nice?” He leapt from his seat in a sudden bundle of motion and hurried to the spot on the floor where he had discarded his suitcase. Theora directed Bryce to the small bathroom, but the instant Bryce set foot inside, he sharply pulled back as if a snake had bit him.

       “What’s wrong?” Theora asked.

         Bryce paused a second before shrugging, obviously trying to stay cool. “I… well, maybe I’ll just sleep in my clothes.” He set the suitcase back down and returned to Theora’s luxurious bed. She came over, a bit confused, to help him arrange the bedsheets.

          “Do you need your bandages changed?” Theora asked, looking closely at Bryce’s face. The Band-Aids didn’t appear to be bloody, but perhaps the cuts had already scabbed over. Once again, Bryce paused before answering, and this time it lasted much longer. “What bandages?”

          “The ones on your face…” Theora said, touching her own cheeks. Bryce shook his head violently. “What are you talking about?”

         Theora’s mouth went dry, but she forced herself to present Bryce with a smile. “I’m sorry, I must have been mistaken. Good night.” She took Bryce’s glasses from him and dimmed the lights, stepping into the comfort of the kitchen area to observe Bryce as he slept. Her mind raced with ways to help Bryce return to his old self. How much longer could this possibly go on? Listening to Bryce’s steady breathing, Theora began to wish that Edison was with her.

       In his sleep, Bryce’s body relaxed, but his mind tossed and turned, caught in the grip of a nightmare. _He stood over Bryce, triumphant and sneering. “You shall be wounded and ravaged by the great Alexander DeLarge, oh my malenky brother.” Bryce had seen the face before, though he couldn’t remember it, but it was also Kent’s face, malicious and cold. Suddenly he felt pain… pain erupting over his entire body… and he screamed for it to stop, for the man to stop hurting him, but he only yelled vile words in an unknown language… And then cold fingers grabbed his shoulders and dragged him in front of a mirror. He kept his eyes shut as tight as he could, but was still able to see the ruins of what he had become through his eyelids. His face was jagged with fresh wounds, cuts that bled angrily and oozed redness down his neck. Unable to look away, he stood in a stupor as the mirror smashed and pieces of glass flew everywhere, blinding him…_

“AHHHH! _AHHHH!”_

Immediately Theora was at Bryce’s bedside, her reverie forgotten. She plunked herself down on the bed and pulled Bryce into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around him. Now _this_ was a familiar situation. “Bryce! Bryce, wake up. Wake up, Bryce, it’s only a bad dream…” He thrashed in her grip, and Theora had to let go, taking his loose hands and rubbing them. “It’s okay… you’re here with me… it’s okay…” Finally Bryce’s eyes opened, and from one glance Theora knew that he was back to normal, although very shaken.

           “Theora?” The name was no longer a meaningless sound in his mouth. “Is that you? Where- where am I?”

         “You’re safe, Bryce,” Theora told him, patting his trembling hands gently. “You’re at my apartment. Something very bad has happened to you…”

         “Oh.” His fingers flew up to his face, stroking his cheeks, feeling for the first time the marks that the broken glass had made. “Theora, I- I don’t remember…”

         “Ssh,” Theora soothed, reaching out to lay a hand on Bryce’s back. She hoped he perceived her actions as non-threatening. “It’s all right. You don’t have to talk about it.”

         “But I _do,_ ” Bryce cried, his voice suddenly rising. “I _know_ what happened! There was- there was a man…”

          He broke off, searching aimlessly for the words that refused to come. Theora calmly rubbed Bryce’s back.

         “I- I’ve never felt like this before,” Bryce murmured, his voice choked. He sounded both emotional and puzzled, as if his analytical brain was trying to work out why he felt the way he did, while the rest of him experienced his pain full force. “My eyes are stinging- my throat’s closing up-”

         “You’re upset, Bryce,” Theora whispered. “It’s okay. It’s a perfectly natural response.” She stayed close to Bryce as he broke down in tears, waiting patiently until he had stopped weeping, spent.

         “What did he do to me?” Bryce whispered, his voice rough. “And why?”

        Theora shook her head. “It’s better not to go into detail right now. There are very evil people living in this world, and we’re trying our best to get rid of this one.”

          “We?” Bryce said. “You and Edison?”

       “And Murray,” Theora added. “And everyone at Network 23. We care about you, Bryce.” She reached over to wipe the tears from Bryce’s face, but he stiffened as she touched his bandages. Instantly Theora pulled away.

         “I’m so sorry.”

         “No, _I’m_ sorry,” Bryce blurted. “I can’t believe I’m being so… useless…”

        “No!” Theora let her hand drop from Bryce’s back, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You’re _not_ useless, Bryce. You’ve just been hurt. You will mend.”

        Bryce didn’t reply as he lay down, pulling the blanket up to his neck. Theora thought, after several minutes had passed, that he must have fallen asleep, but then she heard Bryce murmur, “Can you sing something?”

        Surprised, and thinking that she must have misunderstood, Theora asked, “Do you want me to turn the TV to a muvid channel?”

        “No,” Bryce said. “Sometimes my mother sang to me, when I was sick as a child… I want to hear you try.”

       “Okay…” Theora racked her brains for a song to which she knew most of the words. Such things were hard to come by these days, when most songs on the Top 40 TV stations were lengthy synth instrumentals that bounced from dark to light and back again. What songs had she heard in her youth, before she became acquainted with muvids? They must taught her a few at the shelter… Finally the right song came to her from a memory of some sports team winning a game on TV. Softly, Theora began to sing. “When you walk through the storm, hold your head up high, and don’t be afraid of the dark…”

        Bryce seemed to still as the words sunk into his skin. His breath grew ragged, concerning Theora, but surprisingly, he seemed more moved by the song than pained. “At the end of the storm is a golden sky, and the sweet silver song of the lark…”

       Theora encouraged her voice soar, reaching notes she hadn’t thought possible. “Walk on, through the wind. Walk on, through the rain. Though your dreams be tossed and blown…”

       A long sigh escaped Bryce’s lips. He curled up among the plethora of pillows, and Theora broke into a tired, accomplished smile.

          “Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone… You’ll never walk alone.” Theora took Bryce’s hand and gave it a squeeze before silently retreating to the kitchen area to put away her mug.

         The door emitted a _bzzz,_ and Theora anxiously checked to make sure that Bryce hadn’t woken up before heading over to see who had arrived. Before looking at the screen, she crossed her fingers behind her back. Was it Kent, back for another refusal? But instead of her boyfriend, Theora found Edison outside her door. Hurriedly she let him in.

         The first thing Edison said was, “How’s Bryce?” Theora gestured to her bed and raised a finger to her lips. “He’s asleep now, but he remembers who he is and what has happened to him. Keep your voice down- I don’t want to wake him.”

       Edison nodded as he removed his coat. “Where should I put this?”

         “Just hang it over the back of that chair,” Theora suggested, walking across the room to a closet. She didn’t care what Edison saw as she opened it and removed several freshly washed sheets and a pillowcase. Depositing the items on the sofa, Theora then went retrieve a pillow from the bed, which Edison was already standing over. His expression was inscrutable as he stared at Bryce.

       “He’s looking better than last night,” Edison commented as Theora made her makeshift bed. “It’s a wonder what a change of scenery can do.” His eyes followed Theora’s work, lingering as she tucked the sheet under the couch cushions. “You need any help with that?”

        “No,” Theora replied, already setting about the arduous task of stuffing a pillow into its case. She couldn’t help but let a tinge of snark show through her voice. “Sometimes a woman is expected to make her own bed, without any help from a man.”

        Edison chuckled quietly and moved towards the kitchen table. “Well, as long as we’re both here, you wouldn’t mind having a drink with me?”

        “I just had some tea half an hour ago if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Theora said as she finished her task. She walked over to the kitchen area and sat down across from Edison, blinking at the light and the intensity in his eyes. Edison shook his head, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “I was talking about… coffee. We’re going to need it if we’re staying up all night with Bryce.”

         _Nice save,_ Theora thought, one corner of her mouth twitching. “You’ve got that right. Bryce had a nightmare not long before you arrived. It’s likely he’ll have more later, and we both need to be there for him.”

         “In that case,” Edison said as he stood up, “I’d love for you to show me where the coffeemaker is.” Trying to keep the smile off her face, Theora pointed the way. She watched as Edison took out the plastic pod of coffee and fed it to the machine. There was a comfortable silence as the coffeemaker did its job, during which Theora kept one ear on the bed’s location, until Edison picked up a clean mug from the counter and held it under the machine’s spout. The aroma of hot coffee permeated the air, and Edison returned to the table. He and Theora listened for signs of Bryce sleeping restlessly and avoided meeting each other’s eyes.

        Eventually Edison heaved a sigh. “I still can’t believe that I got him into this mess.”

         Theora looked up to find Edison brooding over his mug, as if its liquid depths concealed the meaning of life. Though worn out, she spoke soothingly. “I told you before, it could have happened to anyone.”

          “Theora-” Edison’s eyes burned as he glanced urgently towards her. “Theora, what kind of a reporter am I if I fall for a criminal’s lies in an interview? Despite what Les told me about Alex, I ignored his accusation and invited him right to the place where he could do the most damage.”

         “You hardly knew what you were getting into,” Theora said, trying to raise Edison from his despairing depths. She couldn’t take it if both of her guests were in low spirits. Bryce’s mood was justified, but Edison needed to understand that his mistake was honest, if deadly.

           Edison sighed loudly in response to Theora. “That’s the point. If only I’d had some kind of clue that Alex wasn’t all he appeared to be…” He scraped the chair back against the linoleum harshly and began to pace aimlessly. Theora watched his movement from her seat- back, forth, back, forth- before getting up as well. Before she knew it, her hands were on his arms, holding him in place.

         “Edison, don’t beat yourself up over this,” Theora said. “Please. Honestly, this mistake has as much to do with Murray and I as it does you. You may have invited Alex to tour Network 23, but if Murray hadn’t had business he wouldn’t have gone off on his own, and if I hadn’t told him where to find Bryce, they might not have crossed paths. You’re a reporter, Edison. You’re meant to show the world what you believe to be the truth. Blame me all you want, but don’t blame yourself for doing nothing more than your job.”

       Edison merely stared at Theora, before leaning into her body, absorbing her human heat. Theora’s arms came around his waist. They held each other lightly for a while, until Edison’s lips skimmed Theora’s fair forehead. Theora was motionless as he kissed her, working his way past her temples to her cheeks, and then to her nose… If she wasn’t careful, he would end up finishing the kiss that had never started the day before.

       But Theora _was_ careful, and she wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen. Too many men had used her in the past. Not only was indulging Edison unfair to Kent, but it was also unfair to Theora herself. She couldn’t let herself be treated as if she were nothing, because she might end up believing that she _was_ nothing and all the self-confidence that she had worked so hard to build would fall to pieces. Even if she wanted to go all the way with Edison, she knew it would only add to her insecurity.

         “Edison.” Theora fluidly broke out of his grasp before his lips met hers, and he stared at her with dull surprise. He hadn’t expected to get very far with her, but at least further than that.

           “I can’t.” Theora felt the stress rise as she spoke. “I can’t do this- I can’t have you do this to me. I’m sorry.”

         “But Theora…” Edison stepped forward imploringly, his eyes locked on her face. Theora shook her head and looked down at the floor. “I just…” Taking a deep breath, she straightened up and looked him in the eye. “It’s just not right, not here and not anywhere. I can’t fall in love with the reporter I work for. Our relationship would fail, given the circumstances.” The diamonds around her neck seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.

         “But…” Edison trailed off, and exhaled. “I… I thought you…” He looked away to help his words flow better. “I’m not asking you to love me. I just thought…”

           “I don’t do one-night-stands if that’s what you’re talking about,” Theora said with a note of distaste. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Edison, but I have to turn you down. Maybe if we didn’t work so closely together, things would be different.”

          There was a pregnant pause, before Edison dropped the question on Theora like a sledgehammer. “Are you seeing anyone?”

          At that moment a terrified Bryce Lynch sat bolt upright in Theora’s bed, screaming his lungs out. Theora raced over, her heart hurting for Bryce but also grateful for the distraction. Edison followed more cautiously, almost as if ashamed. He stood back as Theora woke Bryce up. “It’s all right, Bryce... you’re safe with me and Edison.” Bryce looked up, and Edison started.

          “Edison…” Bryce whispered.

       “Bryce…” Edison came forward, his eyebrows mushing together. “Bryce, are you okay? I’m so sorry.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “I never meant to let this happen…”

         Bryce’s eyes widened. “What? _You_ did this to me?!”

        “No, no,” Theora blurted, while Edison shook his head. “I didn’t mean that, Bryce. I meant that… that if I hadn’t let a criminal into Network 23, this would have never happened. But I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I swear to God we’re going to get the bastard.”

         Bryce said nothing for a while, listless, until he gritted his teeth. “Edison?”

        “Yes?” Edison said.

         “I want to help you get the bastard,” Bryce said. He swallowed heavily. “I want to bring him to justice.” Though his eyes were wide with fear, they also glowed brightly with determination. Neither Theora nor Edison dared to try and talk Bryce out of it.

       Edison only stayed at Theora’s place until Bryce had gone back to sleep, parting with a simple “Goodnight.” Theora had a feeling that he hadn’t expected the evening to turn out this way. She curled up on her sofa and drifted off into sleep, listening above the TV’s noise for any sign of Bryce having a nightmare.


	8. Chapter 8

       "Are you done yet?"

        Theora couldn't keep the words from her lips as she watched Bryce finish his third plate of eggs. The moment he’d woken in her bed, Theora had feared that the nightmares he’d experienced over the course of the night had caused him to regress again. However, after washing and straightening his unruly hair on behest of Theora, Bryce had sat down in the driver’s seat of her car relic, asked if he could have eggs for breakfast, and then talked enough for the both of them. He attacked each offering of food with gustatory glee. While it was clear that darkness still surrounded his thoughts- at several points in the conversation, he had broken off and stared uncomfortably into space before changing the subject- Theora was delighted to see that Bryce was recovering quickly.

        "Yeah, I'm done," Bryce said, looking as if he wanted to smirk her way. "Thanks for breakfast, Theora." He climbed out of the car while Theora took the empty plate and popped it into the all-but-full dishwasher. Once the dishwasher was churning smoothly, she turned around and watched Bryce with interest as he flopped onto the bed, sighing.

       "Cheviot doesn't want me back at work today, does he?" Theora had mentioned that there had been pushback against the network executives’ desire for Bryce to work right away, but she hadn't spilled all the gory details about the argument between his parents and Murray acting as Cheviot's surrogate. Bryce had simply assumed he was at Theora's because neither of his parents had been able to get away from their jobs, and Theora hadn't had the heart to correct him. She didn't want to upset Bryce by telling him how worried his parents were.

       "I'm not sure," Theora said carefully, sliding over to the couch. "There hasn’t been word. I should think he'd like to wait for you to recover, but you probably know Cheviot better than I do."

       Bryce nodded, before one of his silent spells seized him and his eyes glazed over. Theora took the time to remove the sheets from her makeshift sofa bed and fold them before returning to Bryce's side, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Words hung heavy in the air between them- Bryce's account of his attack that was too painful for him to speak, and Theora's questions about how much he remembered that she was too tactful to ask.  _But eventually,_ she reminded herself,  _we're going to have to learn what happened…_

       "What are you thinking of, Bryce?" she said, trying to gently ease him onto the subject.

       Bryce’s eyes seemed to be lost in another world. "Oh… nothing." The reply was a dart through Theora’s chest. She knew that Bryce had been thinking of _something,_ and was suddenly determined to draw out exactly what it was.

       "Bryce… I know it's very painful for you to remember, but… can you tell me about what happened to you? What Al- what that man did to you?"

       Bryce cringed when Theora came close to saying “Alex.” I'm sorry," he murmured quietly. "But if Edison’s going to do a story on this, I’d like him to be here when I talk. Murray, too,” he added as an afterthought.

       "I understand," Theora said, giving Bryce’s shoulder another pat. _I’ll have to call them over here, if they’re not busy._ She glanced toward the TV, where morning jingles invaded the air. Then Max's face popped up on the screen, and calling both Bryce and Theora to attention. "Hell- Hello, my friends-friends-f-f-friends, fans, and f-f-family!" he cried, positively enthusiastic. "Did you miss me? Miss me? Miss me?"

       "Max," Bryce breathed, joy lighting on his face. He went over to the TV set and sat down in front of it, inches from the screen. "I'm so glad to see you!"

       "As I am you-you!" Max declared. "Those l-l-losers at the medcen wouldn't turn-t-t-turn the TV to in your room Network-N-Network 23. Th-th-they're so unhip it's a wonder their b-b-bottoms don't fall off!"

       "I think I've heard that one before," Theora muttered, but she couldn't recall where. Bryce merely laughed.

        "Do you have any news for us, Max?" Theora asked, standing up and moving closer to the TV. Max gazed at her with a  _"huh?"_ expression. "N-N-news? If you're looking for news, why don't you watch- the news?" He beamed at his bad joke, and Theora resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Has anything happened at 23 that we should be aware of? Did- did Edison get home all right?”

       Max sobered up as much as a maniacal CGI could and got down to business. "As you know-kn-know, the M-M-Metrocops are no longer searching for that f-fashionable cat who hurt B-Bryce. F-F-Fortunately I’ve gotten an ink-inkling of the situation- but it's not enough ink-i-ink to write a st-st-story. Word-w-w-word is, the one who so _ru-r-ruuudely_ pulled the p-p-plug is none other than a government em-em-employee.”

       "How do you know?" Bryce asked, completely absorbed in Max’s tale.

        Max grinned wickedly. "Only the g-g-government would hide things that the people are dying-d-dying to know! Know! Let’s just th-thank  _G-G-God that_ they're not _actually_ dying." He gave Bryce a meaningful look that completely failed to get through to him, but Theora immediately understood his intent. If Bryce followed up on his wish to help Edison locate Alex, he’d be putting himself directly in harm’s way. His passionate desire to help “get the bastard” had haunted Theora all night, between outbursts of Bryce’s nightmares. Bryce didn't have to pretend to be brave, no matter how noble his actions were. Theora would rather have him safe and sound and with his parents, out of danger.

       Meanwhile, Max had moved on to more familiar news. "The f-f-folks at Network 23 are t-t-turning tricks, and not in the good-g-g-good way, oh no-no-no!"

       "What do you mean, the good way?" Bryce asked. Theora was too mortified to answer.

       "Cheviot's been st-stewing in his own j-j-juices, concocting-cocting ways to make the ratings r-rise," Max said. "He and the b-b-board spent the n-night chit-chit-chatting away. They’re really pulling out all the st-stops! They m-m-moved all of their best programs to later time s-slots, hoping-h-h-hoping that folks would be d-d-desperate enough to tune in later-later. And what a l-l- a lineup! Violence, s-s-sex, _rawk and raw-r-r-rawwwwl…_ Programs you’d fall-f-f-fall asleep to! Just no d-d-dirty language, thanks to good ol’ Censor.”

       "Max," Theora said, shooting him a look of warning. Bryce was still watching intently, but his face had gone pale. Max returned Theora’s gaze with indignace. "Well, excu-u-u-excuuuuse me! I'm only t-telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help-h-h-help me God. Any-anyway, it didn't do much g-g-g-good for them. The r-ratings are still dropping, and it's up to you, B-B-Bryce, to stop them." He adopted a heroic, masculine tone, proudly puffing out his chest, before adding, "Or, of c-c-course, they could always give me my own sh-sh-show-sh-show…"

       "Dream on, Max," Theora said witheringly.

       “Why’s it up to me?” Bryce asked.

       Theora turned to Bryce before Max could answer, realizing that he would take it for granted that Bryce already knew about Cheviot’s wishes. "There was a ratings slump the day after you were… taken to the med center, and we think it's because viewers found the broadcast that Edison did in your room too exploitative."

       "Wait- why was Edison broadcasting from my room?" Bryce asked, confusion clouding his face.

       "It was at the medcen," Theora explained. "Edison showed the world what the man we're looking for had done to you. Cheviot wants to regain viewers by having you come back to work as soon as possible, so that they will know you’ve recovered and won't think that Network 23 is milking your injuries for all they're worth."

       Bryce grimaced and looked away. It was obvious that he wished he hadn't asked. Theora was about to say something to him, but a burst of song from the TV broke the pause. “Hey, that’s n-n-not such bad advice-vice… Dream on! D-d-d-dream on! Dreeeaaaaam until your d-d-dreams come truuuuue!"

        "Max!" Theora glared. "Could you please be quiet?" Beside her, Bryce emitted an involuntary dog-like whine, disturbed by something inside his head.

       "S-s-sorry about th-that," Max said. "Just be gl-gl-glad that it was me singing and not Ed-Ed-Edison!”

       "I’m, uh,” Bryce started, sallow and trembling slightly. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom…” He got to his feet and left the room. Once the bathroom door was shut tight, Theora stared angrily at Max, who looked surprisingly guilty as he stared back.

       "Did I- Did I do something wrong?"

       Theora sighed, expelling her vivid emotions. "No… Max, you're fine. Just try not to interrupt us or make any… rude comments. Bryce has been through a lot. Even if he looks all right to you, that doesn’t mean he’s fully recovered." She couldn't blame Max for mentioning violence and sex in passing, or for shouting out song lyrics at awkward times. If she expected decorum from Max Headroom, she needed to remind herself that he was Edison without a sense of tact.

       On the screen, Max shrugged his shoulders. "Now that my audi-audience has diminished, can I make a remark-r-remark?"

       "Certainly," Theora said, hoping that Max would have the sense to stay on topic.

       "Ed-Edison was disappointed that you don't turn-t-t-t-turn tricks-icks," Max said bluntly. "I don't m-m-mean the kind you do at the terminal. He thinks you're a bit of a- oh, what's the word-w-word- aha-ha, yes! _C _ocktease."__

       The blood drained from Theora’s face as she stared at Max. Then her stomach dropped, and her fingers curled into her palms. "Edison said that about me?"

       "His a-a-actions spoke louder than w-words!" Max declared. "If I were y-you, I'd c-clear up this little mis-mis-misunderstanding, and let him st-stay the night!"

       "How can you say that?" Theora whispered. She meant for the words to ring out with anger, but instead they dropped softly to her feet and left no impression as they hit the floor. "You weren't with us last night. You don't know my reasons…"

       "If it has anything to d-d-do with the fella who g-gave you that necklace-lace,” Max said airily, "I have only one qu-qu-question- _voulez-vous avoir un menage a trois? Trois? Trois?”_

       Theora gasped and surged forward, before remembering that Max was virtual and incapable of experiencing physical pain. Instead of meaninglessly striking the TV screen, she jabbed her finger towards Max. "Max, get off the air. Now."

       "I wasn't even o-on it," Max complained, but he disappeared without another word. Theora waited a moment to make sure that Max wasn't coming back, before moving to her bed and sitting down, covering her face with her hands. Damn Max, and damn Edison. Hadn't he apologized for his possessive tendencies the last time Theora was seeing a man? He didn't even know that Theora was with Kent, and he was still shocked that she hadn’t fallen into his arms like any sensible woman would… And had he _really_ expected anything to happen last night, right here when Theora was tending to Bryce Lynch? He was so infuriatingly single-minded… Thinking about Edison's high expectations practically brought steam coming out of Theora’s ears. How dare he call her a tease when he was the one who initiated their closeness the night before?

       Bryce then emerged from the bathroom, and Theora looked up to see that the color had returned to his cheeks. He offered Theora a small smile as he went to sit next to her on the bed. "Where did Max go?" he asked, glancing at the TV with a hint of disappointment.

       "He had no more news to share,” Theora said. _And good riddance, anyway._ "I didn't want him to bother you anymore."

       "He wasn't bothering me," Bryce said. "I wish he’d stayed." He glanced down, and Theora looked him over. The Band-Aids were still on his face, but Theora guessed the wounds would heal after a few more days. The mental wounds, however, Theora feared would scar and stay with Bryce for the rest of his life.

       "Bryce," she murmured, again trying to persuade him to talk. "What do you remember?"

       He looked up at her, his eyes flashing beneath the lenses of his new glasses. "I told you, I’m not going to talk unless Edison and Murray are around to hear. This is their story, isn’t it?"

       Theora nodded. "I just thought it would do you good to talk about it with me…"

       "Theora?" Bryce cut in gently. "Do you remember what I told you last night?"

       Theora hesitated, Bryce’s voice on an instant replay in her head- _“I want to help you get the bastard. I want to bring him to justice.”_ But she played dumb, so that Bryce wouldn’t realize how preoccupied she’d become with his words. “What was it you said?’

       "I said that I wanted to help track down the… the man who hurt me," Bryce said. The light in his eyes dimmed, but he went on. "Sure, maybe it’s not the most logical decision, but it’s- it’s important to me. I don’t want Edison to use me as a martyr for his cause. I want to _help.”_

Theora was taken aback, having never heard Bryce speak so plainly before. “Bryce, there’s a reason we can’t let you help. You’re not equipped for it. Leave the story to Edison and I.”

       “But it’s not just a story,” Bryce insisted. “Why does Edison get to go out and search when he’s not the one who was attacked? I don’t want to be pushed to the sidelines, and I don’t want anyone to try to protect me. I need to be in control. You get that, don’t you?”  

       Although she was reluctant to verbally agree, Theora found that she understood. To her, control meant her hands on a keyboard and Edison’s voice carried through a vidicam link. Her work had always steadied her, and she could only imagine it was the same for Bryce, considering he’d devoted his entire childhood to it. Still, Theora was uncomfortable with the idea Bryce had proposed. She paused to gather her words.

        "I do, but you’ve got to remember what Max said to you. _‘Thank God they’re not actually dying.’_ Neither he nor I want to see anything happen to you because you were trying to be brave. I understand that you don't want to be idle, but you still need to take it easy. You've just been through a terrible, traumatic experience… Some of your wounds aren't healed," Theora added as Bryce turned his head away, embarrassed. "You must realize that it's your life in your hands. If you go running after Al- the man who did this to you, and end up confronting him, there’s no guarantee that you would survive it. He could kill you, Bryce."

       Bryce said nothing for a long time, clutching the blanket beneath him until his knuckles went white. Theora guessed that he was trying to not to show his fear. She gently stroked his back, and he recoiled from the touch as he would a bomb.

       "Bryce, I'm s-"

       "Okay, how about we exchange information?” Bryce blurted. “If you answer my questions, I’ll answers yours. What did he do to me? Where did he come from? How did he find me? Why did he target me specifically, and what did he gain from it? Why didn't he just kill me? Theora, I need to know!”

       "Bryce," Theora said, trying to calm him. Oddly enough, she recognized the look on his face- he resembled a computer that was trying to work out an impossible mathematics problem, such as calculating the last digit of pi. "Are you sure you don't want to save it for when Edison and Murray are here?"

       "No," Bryce said, fiercely shaking his head. "There’s no point. You know as well as they do what happened."

      Realizing that the simplest responses wouldn't pacify Bryce, Theora shook her hair out and combed her fingers through it, preparing a proper explanation. "The man you're referring to used his status as an employee at the Gramodisc Archives as an excuse to tour Network 23. He lives in London, and was invited to 23 after Edison met him on a day trip there." Somehow it didn't feel right to reveal yet that Edison had specifically dropped in on Alex after hearing allegations against him as a gang leader. "What happened was a terrible mistake, Bryce. After hearing about your work, he went to the thirteenth floor-"

       "But no one knows that there is a Level 13," Bryce pointed out, observant to the end. Theora became speechless. She couldn’t bear to lie to Bryce- but she also couldn’t bear the thought of him discovering that she, his rescue in a time of need, had provided Alex with the information crucial to allowing his attack. While Theora’s unease grew, Bryce noticed her pause. Applying his computation skills to her facial expression, he arrived at the end result with a puzzled, "You told him where to find me? Why?"

      "It was an accident," Theora blurted, before sighing and looking down at her lap. "Bryce… you must understand that none of us knew what that man was capable of. We all thought that he was just a harmless government employee who wanted to tour 23. When I gave him directions to Level 13-"

       Bryce's eyes popped wide.  _"_ _It was_ _you!”_ he exclaimed, as if he had just solved a very complex riddle. But Theora refused to hear it. Yes, it _was_ partly her fault, but Murray hadn’t been blameless himself, and Edison… Edison’s invitation had set the disaster in motion. At least _she_ had a valid reason for turning Alex away. "He was hitting on me. I was in an uncomfortable position, and-"

       " _Hitting_ on you?" Bryce’s expression changed abruptly from intensely accusing to baffled. "Did he hurt you like… like he hurt me?"

       Theora’s unease increased as she struggled for the right way of phrasing. Bryce clearly didn’t understand what had happened to him, but she wasn’t sure how much he understood about such crimes in general, and their basis. Surely he’d left home too young for his parents to ever explain. Desperately she wished they were here, but she knew their absence couldn’t be helped. It was time to take matters into her own hands. She herself had never received a conventional “birds and bees” talk, learning only from the whisperings of older girls and from her traumatized friends whom she had attempted to nurse back to health.

        “No, he didn’t get that far,” Theora answered. “But I’m sure he would have hurt me had he found the opportunity.” Before Bryce could ask anything else, and before she could talk herself out of it, Theora took a deep breath. “Bryce… how much do you know about sex?”

       “Sexual intercourse?” Bryce said, bemused. “It’s a means of procreation. I know all about the mechanics, but if you’re asking for personal advice you’ve come to the wrong person…” His voice grew quieter with each word as he trailed off. “What’s that got to do with…?”

       For a fleeting second, Theora wanted to cry. _I’m so sorry this happened. So sorry. So sorry._ This wasn’t how Bryce deserved to find out about attraction, pleasure, consent. This shouldn’t have been his first experience.

       "In order to understand what’s happened to you, you’ll need to realize that sex isn’t purely for procreation,” Theora murmured. “And it’s not always positive.” She swallowed down a lump in her throat. “Here's one for your data files…"

*

       "I'm only going to tell the story once," Bryce said to his captivated audience of three, his voice lacking emotion. "So you'd better film this if you need to, Edison. I'm going to try to present a clear, unbiased, reasonable account."

       "Go ahead, Bryce," Edison said, angling his vidicam towards Bryce. "Tell us what happened." And so Bryce began.

       "I was down in my studio at Network 23, calculating the angle of rebound after bouncing a rubber ball at the wall. I was so absorbed, I hardly noticed when, uh… the man you’re looking for came in. He seemed all right to me when we shook hands. It wasn’t until he pulled the razor on me that… that I knew something was wrong.”

       Bryce took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I wasn't scared yet. Then he grabbed me, held the razor against my throat, and threatened my life. I thought he was going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom. I didn't know he was going to do… uh… anything else." Bryce swallowed and opened his eyes, looking away. "I… I got these cuts on my face after he broke my glasses and shoved my head down." His fingers traced the healing wounds against his cheeks, the Band-Aids now removed. "Once he- um, once he… had me, I mean, had me on the floor… he… he did what Theora told me about.”

       "Which was what?" Edison said. Theora nudged him with her elbow. "You know what he did, Edison. You don't need to ask. We all know."

       Edison responded coolly. "If this is going to be used as a confession tape, we need Bryce to be as specific as possible.” He didn’t look away from Bryce, who tilted his head and glanced back with slight anguish in his eyes.

       "Bryce, what did Alex Burgess do to you?"

        All of a sudden Bryce covered his ears with his hands, shaking his head as if he could shake off the influence of Edison’s words. Theora got to her feet and sat down on the sofa next to him, pulling him close. "It's all right, Bryce… it's all right…"

       "What's wrong?" Murray asked, bewildered. Theora stared intently at Edison as she replied. "Bryce has got a bad reaction to hearing Al… _his_ name. I've tried to avoid saying it all morning."

       "It's fine," Bryce said, pulling free from Theora’s arms. "I'm sorry. I won't let emotions get in the way of my account again."

       "Are you sure, Bryce?" Theora said. Her arms felt awkwardly empty, and she folded them across her chest. "It's all right for you to feel, you know."

       "Feelings only muddle results," Bryce said matter-of-factly. He pushed his glasses up his nose and took a deep breath to steady himself. "Feelings make people biased."

        "But you're not a computer," Murray warned him sternly. "You're a human being."

       "I dunno,” Bryce mumbled. “Sometimes I wish I was a computer…" Theora's heart went out to him, but it snapped back into her chest when Edison spoke. "It’s okay, Bryce. We have to move on. Just tell me in your own words- and not Theora's- what happened to you." He stared at Theora without a trace of warmth or a smile, blue eyes glinting like steel. Irritated confusion shot through Theora, and she stood up before Bryce could speak again.

       "And what's so wrong with my words, Edison? If you’re looking for precision, wouldn't you rather he use the proper terms to describe his attack so that viewers in court can know exactly what he means?"

       "I think they'd rather hear Bryce describe his attack in his own words," Edison said pointedly. "Not the words that you so kindly put into his mouth."

       "For God's sake," Murray broke in. "Stop arguing and let Bryce talk! What's gotten into you two?"

       Sullenly, Theora resumed her seat facing the sofa, taking care not to move closer to Edison than she had to. She wasn't sure what had gotten into him. Was he reacting to her refusal the night before, or were other forces at work? Well, next to Bryce's story, Edison's petty feelings were of little significance.

       "All right," Edison sighed, thankfully reluctant to continue the argument. Perhaps he too had realized how important Bryce's story was. "Go ahead, Bryce." He adjusted the camera’s angle.

       "He raped me," Bryce stated calmly, as though he were talking about the weather. “I guess I shut down, because I don't remember anything until I found myself at Theora’s place. I know I was at the medcen… but it's like someone smeared Vaseline on a camera lens. I can't picture anything clearly."

      "You don't know where Al- I mean- the man we're looking for might have gone?" Edison asked. "Do you remember anything he might have said?"

       "Uh… no, I… I don't remember," Bryce murmured, rubbing his temples. "I think he was speaking in another language…"

       "Another language?" Murray muttered to himself.

       "Nadsat-talk," Edison theorized, repeating the term that Les had told him weeks ago. "He didn't provide you with any clues as to his plans?"

       "No…" Bryce rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, searching through his memories. "I… I don't think so. I think he, uh… attacked me on a random whim. He didn’t know anything about me except my position at Network 23. He wasn’t looking for me specifically.”

       "I see." Edison put his vidicam on standby. "Thank you for being brave enough to talk about your attack, Bryce."

       "You're welcome," Bryce replied, his shoulders relaxing now that the story was over. "But there's something else I want to be brave enough to do."

       "What’s that?" Edison asked as he laid the vidicam down on the floor. Bryce waited until he had made eye contact again.

       "I want to help you find this man," he announced. "Theora told me it wouldn't be a good idea, but I don't care what anyone thinks. I don’t want to be a helpless victim. Finding him is worth anything that he could do to me.”

      Edison shook his head. "Sorry to break it to you, Bryce, but I think Theora’s right. It’s a bad idea to have you out in the field with me. You need time to recover."

       "But I don't have to go with you," Bryce said, speaking more quickly as his eagerness expanded. "You remember when I stood in for Theora that one time? You could let me work at Control while you’re in the field.”

       After deliberating silently, both Theora and Edison turned to Murray. It was an instinctive reaction- Murray was their superior, and had been in the business longer than both of them. If anyone was able to make such a call, it was Murray. He shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of Edison and Theora's stares, but focusing only on Bryce.

       "You would give up your current job just to help Edison and Theora?" Murray’s voice was quiet but authoritative. "And what about your parents? They've been longing to see you since you were attacked. You can't go back to work right away."

_Although it would please Cheviot…_ Theora mused. Maybe Murray really did have Bryce’s best interests at heart.

       "I have a few acquaintances from ACS whom I'm sure would be happy to fill in for me," Bryce replied levelly. "As for my parents, they can wait."

_They've been waiting for six years!_ Theora saw Edison tense out of the corner of her eye, and she knew the same thought had struck him. But neither of them protested.

        "Come on, Murray,” Bryce said, leaning forward. “I won’t be harmed if I stay at Control and help Theora. I need to be _useful._ It’s not useful if I’m stuck in the tech department. Sitting around down there brought that… the man to me.”

       After a pause, Murray sighed and leaned back. "I'll talk it over with Cheviot, but I can't guarantee that he'll approve."

       "Just try," Bryce insisted. "Please."

       "There won’t be much to do now that the search is at a bit of a standstill," Theora said. She felt Edison harden further beside her.

        "It's not as bad as all that.” To Bryce, Edison explained- “The Metrocops were ordered to cease their manhunt, and the Fringers are proving uncooperative. But I'm not going to give up." Even as he addressed Bryce, he side-eyed Theora. She shifted and crossed her legs, suddenly uncomfortable.

       "What do you mean, the Fringers aren't cooperating?" Bryce said, at the same time that Murray asked if he could use Theora’s viewphone in order to call Cheviot and relay Bryce’s demands. Theora gave him permission, and he excused himself- rather conveniently, in Theora’s opinion. Did he think Edison was about to argue with her? A second later she realized she was wrong when Edison looked back at Bryce. Murray must have left to help defuse tension he already sensed, rather than tension that was about to come. Theora’s body loosened automatically as if to prove it.

       "After I… displayed you on my show,” Edison said, “Network 23’s ratings have been dropping. Based on the Fringers’ reaction yesterday when I was trying to track Ale- uh… the man, it appears they’ve tuned out because they deemed the program exploitative.”

        "Everyone you talked to reacted like that?" Bryce said. He sunk back against the sofa with a contemplative expression, ready to solve another riddle. Edison nodded.

       "Well, I’m no sociologist,” Bryce said, “but I don’t believe in coincidences. How many collective strangers would care so much about a person they’ve never met? Someone in the Fringes could have convinced them to stop watching Network 23… someone who knows me personally.” Bryce's eyes popped wide with surprise. "Blank Bruno?"

       "Oh, hell," Edison spat, getting up from his chair. "If we have to deal with him on top of Al-"

       "Don't worry," Theora interrupted before the whole name could struggle out of Edison's mouth. "When we catch him, our story will put Network 23 back at the top of the ratings chart where we belong. And don't forget, we have friends in the Fringes. There's Rik, and-"

       "Blank Reg and Dominique?" Edison said. "I'm not sure whose side they're on, but come to think of it, it's worth asking if they might know where… the man is." He drifted towards the viewphone, where Murray was holding a hushed, private conversation with Cheviot.

       "You're right, it's worth a shot," Theora said, shrugging. "As long as you don’t cut in on Murray.”

       She got up from her chair and sat down next to Bryce, who gave her a small smile that warmed her heart. Bryce's wish to help track down Alex Burgess still seemed foolhardy, but it had certainly fully returned him to the real world. Bryce seemed much more content now that he had a duty to perform, like a machine idling until its owner touched it.

       Edison paced the floor while Murray talked, speaking the instant the call disconnected. "And the decision is…?"

       "Cheviot isn't too happy with this recent turn of events," Murray said, eyeing Bryce meaningfully. "But he’s willing to let Bryce go for a week, as long as the confession tape is broadcast on TV- admittedly without sound- to prove that Bryce has recovered from his attack."

       "We can deal with that," Theora murmured, while a sparkle appeared in Bryce's eyes. "Thank you, Murray!"

       "Don't thank me," Murray muttered gruffly. "Thank Cheviot." But the expression on his face suggested to Theora that he was flattered by Bryce’s change in tone. Usually the boy was much more condescending.

       "Murray, I have an idea to call Blank Reg and ask if he's seen you-know-who," Edison said, already inches from the viewphone. "He's sure to help us out."

        Murray nodded as Edison sat down to make the call. "Good thinking." He watched carefully as Edison dialed the number to Reg and Dominique’s mobile home, before turning to Theora and lowering his voice. "Theora…" She and Bryce returned Murray’s gaze.

       "Regarding the so-called confession tape…" Murray murmured. "How are we going to get anyone to corroborate Bryce's story?"

       "Ah-ah-ahem-hem," sounded a voice from the TV. Murray, Bryce, and Theora looked over to find Max clearing his throat. "I think I-I- _I_ can be of assistance-tance…"

       "Max, your ego has no place here,” Murray replied hostilely "You weren't-"

       "Ssh!" Theora shushed her boss. "I think Max has a point…"

       "For your information-mation, sir, I _was_ there-th-th-there!" Max protested indignantly. "With a p-p-primo vantage spot. I'll show you every-everything that happened-ha-ha-happened!"

       "It's okay, Max," Murray said quickly. "We're not really intere-"

        "Not inter-interested?!" Max spluttered. "Why, I th-thought you were c-c-calling my name!"

       "No one called your name," Murray muttered. Theora shot him a sympathetic glance. On the other hand, Bryce turned to Theora with excitement written across his face.

       "This is great! Don't you see? If Max was there and saw any part of… what happened to me… he would have it recorded in his digital memory. Anything that Max saw can be replayed like a tape. We have an eyewitness for when we take this case to court!"

       "I don't think that's going to happen," Theora murmured gently.

      "Sorry to burst your bubble, kid," Murray stated, "but you-know-who is a government employee. We can't just take this to  _You The Jury_  and let the audience decide what happens. Due to you-know-who’s position, he's going to have a lawyer and everything, and the case will be settled the old-fashioned way. Not only that, but if he’s tried in London, he’ll have plenty of witnesses ready to vouch for him. Even with an eyewitness, it's not guaranteed that you-know-who will be properly convicted for what he did."

       "Ah, c-c-crime and punishment, law and or-or-order!" Max sang cheerily. "Three ch-cheers to the old judicial system, where you're g-g-g-guilty 'til proven g-guilty!"

       "I believe I've heard that one before too," Theora said, narrowing her eyes in Max's direction.

       "Heard what?" Edison had wrapped up his call and was heading back to his chair. He stopped when he saw Max, his eyelids drooping. "What obscure reference is it _this_ time, Max?"

       "I could s-s-sing it to j-jog your memory," Max offered brightly.

       "Er… no thanks, Max," Theora said. "I've had enough of your singing for one day."

       Max gave a deep and dramatic sigh. "How come no one ever rec-rec-recognizes my t-true t-talent-alent?” With that, he winked out of existence.

       "True talent?" Edison murmured. "He's got to be kidding me. Have you ever heard  _me_ sing?"

       "No, and now is not the time to start," Murray said. "Max has brought us some interesting news." He relayed what Max had mentioned about his recorded evidence, and Edison's eyebrows angled upwards. "Interesting to say the least. You’ve got to hand it to Max, he certainly knows how to save the day.”

       "So it's settled," Murray said, standing up. "Bryce will return to Network 23 as soon as possible and take a position at Control with Theora. Edison, you've got to get back in the field and try to find Al… _him_ on your own."

       "With some help from Dom and Reg," Edison cut in. "They said they'd be happy to help. Dom was particularly enthusiastic to report any suspicious activities. Personally, I think she just wants to be on TV." He chuckled for the first time that day.

       "Theora, are you going to continue to house Bryce?" Murray asked.

        Theora turned to Bryce, who shook his head. "I'm glad you let me stay here, Theora, but I should probably visit my parents soon. I… I don't feel safe in the studio. And they probably miss me." He sounded puzzled, as if unable to imagine anyone missing him.

       "I think you've made a wise decision," Theora said softly, thinking of both the loss in the Lynches' eyes and the hurt at an apparent rejection in Kent's. "Your parents will be happy to have you."

       Bryce nodded. "I suppose I'd better start packing. Thanks again for your help." He stood up and held out his hand to Theora, grinning. Theora took it and squeezed his hand before letting go so that Bryce could go grab his suitcase. With his departure, the rest of her guests understood that it was time to head out themselves. Murray made for the door right away, but as Theora got up and drifted longingly towards the viewphone, she felt someone grip her shoulder, and a familiar voice whispered low in her ear. "Theora, could you meet me out in the hall for a moment?"

       "I have to make a call…" Theora replied, twisting her neck so that she could look Edison in the eye. He inclined his head. "All right. Come and meet me when you're done, then."

       Theora nodded and tore herself away from Edison. She checked to make sure he and Murray were really out the door and that Bryce was distracted with packing before sitting down and calling Kent on the viewphone. The pace of her heart quickened with every second, but finally she got through to her boyfriend at his home. Kent's face stared out from the screen, bathing her in warmth and regret.

       "Theora-?"

       "I'm sorry for last night," Theora blurted hastily. "I… I just didn't want you to worry Bryce. He's doing much better now- he’s on his way to his parents' home. You'll be able to see me at night again. I still don’t have much time for you during the day, but I promise I'll make more time in the evening." Sitting back, Theora released the remaining air in her lungs, while Kent looked back at her, a trace of pity in his eyes.

       "Theora, are you sure this relationship is working out?" he asked. "I don't want you to feel obligated to make time for me. I want you to want to be near me. And if the job is going to take so much time away…"

      "You'll have to expect that when you date a controller," Theora informed Kent stiffly. "Long hours apart come with the territory. So do emergency broadcasts in the night. We’ve got to put in the effort if we want the relationship to last- and you needn’t feel jealous of the men I work with,” she concluded, thinking of the distasteful way he tended to phrase Edison's name.

       Kent paused, before mournfully suggesting, "Are you saying that your work is more important to you than- than your lover?"

       Theora would have let out a sigh at these words, but she caught herself. Reviewing everything she had said in her head, she grudgingly supposed it was a fair assumption to make. Her voice turned sweet, cloying, as she tried to bring Kent back to her.

       "I'm not saying that I'd rather be at work than enjoying your company. I only mean that I can't help how time-intensive my job is. I love you, Kent, and I love to be around you. We've both got to try to make this work out." Personally Theora wanted to shove all the blame on Kent and get it over with, but she realized that it wasn't fair to consider oneself blameless. Kent nodded, not completely convinced, but understanding what Theora was trying to say.

       "I love you too, Theora. And unfortunately, I have errands to run." He sighed. "Can I come to your apartment tonight, talk things over?"

      "Of course," Theora said, nodding. "See you, Kent."

       "See you, Theora." The Disconnect icon flashed on the viewphone's screen, and Theora turned around, uncoiling herself, to find Bryce standing over her shoulder. Her relief dissolved into surprise. "Bryce! What are you doing?"

       "Did- did you have your boyfriend over last night?" Bryce asked, his voice oddly still. Speechless, Theora nodded. What was Bryce getting at?

       "I remember him…" Bryce muttered. Confused now, Theora stood up and went to him. "What do you remember?"

       Bryce shrugged off Theora's hand on his arm. "I dunno… I think I got him confused with…” He didn’t go on, grimacing. Theora’s heart pounded.

       “It’s okay, Bryce. He’s not the one who hurt you. His name is Kent, and he’s a very kind man.” Longing to see Kent stirred in Theora’s breast, before abruptly transitioning into a reminder. Edison was waiting for her in the hall…

       "I'm going to go talk to Edison, okay? Wait here." She was out the door before Bryce responded. On the other side, Edison stood with his back to the wall, his hands clasped behind him and his head raised to the ceiling.

       "Edison. What was it you wanted to talk about?" Max's words from that morning came back to haunt Theora. She prayed that Edison was sensible enough not to tear her a new one for refusing to sleep with him.

       Edison pushed away from the wall and rounded on Theora, drawing himself to his full height. "I get it now. You and Bryce, huh?”

       Dumbfounded, Theora could only repeat, “Bryce and I?”

       “C’mon, you think I didn’t notice the way you were touching him?” Edison’s eyes sparked. “After everything he’s been through, I’m sure you realize how inappropriate that is… unless it started weeks ago, before any of this happened. Maybe that’s why he wanted to work at Control, huh?” The words hung unspoken between them- _Maybe that’s why you turned me down._

       For a moment Theora was too shocked to respond, wondering how in the world Edison could have jumped to that conclusion. Then she regathered her wits and blurted, "I did nothing out of the ordinary, Edison. I was _comforting_ him. That doesn’t mean I have feelings for him! God, he’s just a kid… You would have done the same!"

        “Forget it,” Edison muttered, turning away. Theora watched as he retreated, his back growing smaller until he turned down the stairs and disappeared. She had half a mind to call after him, but what good would that do? Her contradictions could not alleviate Edison’s misconceptions. Obviously he didn't trust her to tell him the truth, even when they’d worked together for so long.


	9. Chapter 9

_Neon lights and streetlights illuminated the city as Alex wandered back to his home. He tapped his black shoes to an unheard beat and spun a straight razor around in his hand, smiling like a drunk as he mentally reviewed the night's revelries. He and his droogs had enjoyed every second- stealing, fighting, even the old in-out. Yes, all told, this night had been a success. He could hardly wait for the next one, whenever that might be._

_Walking jauntily home, Alex was so engrossed in his private thoughts that he didn't notice the white-coated men creeping in the shadows before it was too late. When they reached out and grabbed his arms, his attention immediately returned to the real world. He yelped and thrashed as the men held him down, twisting his arm so that he lost his grip on the razor. It clattered to the ground, and the men sneered as they yanked him up, spinning him around so that he couldn't escape. One of the men bent over to pick up the razor, and in a second Alex felt its sharp tip prod his back._

_Neither of the two men made any noise as they pushed him, using the razor to urge him forward. Instead of feeling fearful, Alex grew angry. What right did these men have to grab him and force him to go along with them? Alex planted his feet firmly, refusing to let the men move him, and spat on the ground below. "Leave me alone! What are you doing? Let go of me!"_

       " _It's perfectly all right," one of the men said smoothly. Without warning Alex was hoisted, kicking, into the air and thrown over one man’s shoulder. He shrieked and beat the man's chest and thrashed about, but all of his efforts were in vain. Grunting from the weight on his shoulder, the man took a step forward, and the other one followed. Still Alex struggled against his captors, all up to the point where they reached a vintage abandoned building. Inside, it was much too dark to see. The man roughly threw Alex off his shoulder and plunked him into a chair with a tall back, the likes of which he had never felt before and yet knew only too well. Shadowy figures moved about in front of him. Alex tried to get out of the chair, only to find one of the men standing in front of him, pointing his own razor at him. "Just sit tight, son, and we'll get you all fixed up.” When Alex rose from his seat, the man shoved him back so hard that the force left him breathless. Hands were at his wrists, and though he tried with all his might, he couldn't escape the force of the men as they strapped him into the chair._

       " _What are you doing, you bratchnies?" Alex roared as they strapped him in around his chest, so that he felt as if he were wearing a straightjacket. Now only his head was mobile, and he thrashed it until one of the men attached to it a large metal helmet. "I told you it's perfectly all right, Mr. Burgess. We are only going to show you some films." With that, they connected wires from the helmet to Alex's forehead. At the touch of the wires on his skin, he stopped struggling. He was trapped, and nothing could be done about that. He had to wait and see what the men were doing and if he would escape with his life. Though most of his body was paralyzed now, he managed to snarl at the men, and in response the one that had hooked him into the chair jabbed him in the hand with something sharp. It wasn't a knife, because the blade was too fine… more like a needle from the doctor’s office. Though it was only a brief pinprick, Alex cried out in pain._

_There came a soft whirring noise, and a blaze of white light flared up before Alex's eyes, illuminating what looked like a TV screen… but it wasn't a TV screen, somehow was off… it looked more substantial… The light was so bright that it hurt, and Alex squeezed his eyes shut- until a cold metal touch forced his lids back open, so that he was staring straight ahead and couldn't look away. As the screen blazed, he tried desperately to shut his eyes again, but that strange, cold metal held him open, forcing him to watch whatever was to come. Soon enough, a burning sensation started in his eyes, and he cried out- "What are you doing to me? This hurts!" No one responded to his question. Alex was at the mercy of the screen, which flashed with a very familiar image. A group of young boys, roughly the same age as himself and all dressed in similar garb, were attacking an older man in an alleyway. He gulped and tried to look away from the screen's image, the violence disgusting him. But his eyes stayed open, and the image remained. And he was beginning to feel sicker. His stomach churned and rolled as the violence onscreen continued, and all around him he swore he heard the dirty men that had brought him here break into harsh, vicious laughter._

       " _Let me go! I want to go home. Let me GO!" But his prayers were not answered. Sweat rolled down Alex’s face and tears poured from his eyes in an attempt to regain their wonted moisture as his jaws opened wide in a silent scream._

       Alex awoke from his dream with a start and lunged for the razor that he kept at his side at all times, even as he slept. He sat up and listened intently for the sound of intruders, but there was nothing besides the ever-present TV chatter and the voices of rowdy Fringers on the sidewalks outside. Slowly, his heartbeat calmed. He glanced without much emotion at Poncho, who lay breathing quickly beside him. As far as Alex could tell, she was asleep, but he had some suspicion that she was only faking in order to get some time alone, away from Alex. Alex grimaced in Poncho's direction, not liking what he saw. At first she’d seemed a beautiful, strong, and promising devotchka, with a perfect slender body and long flowing hair at which he had enjoyed pulling and ripping but now her face bore the signs of Alex's abuse and thus rendered her less attractive. Her cheeks were dappled with bruises and marked with open wounds from Alex’s razor. Worse was the exceptional heat radiating from her body- Alex suspected that one of her injuries had grown infected. He wished that he could just dump Poncho and leave her to fend for herself. But her presence was beneficial, as she couldn’t see what he looked like and thus had no way of knowing if he fit the description Carter had given on the news. If Alex were to leave now, he would be caught immediately.

       That damn Carter! If only he hadn't alerted the public about Alex's actions. If only Alex hadn't attacked someone so high-profile… If he had raped a Fringer like Poncho, he wouldn't have to hide himself away in a hole on the side of the street. Instead he’d have returned to London with the satisfaction of having indulged in the old ultraviolence. Or perhaps he’d be living a double life in this city, working undercover with a new gang at night and staying in the Hotel Paris Hilton on the premise of a business trip by day. All Alex wanted out of his trip was the taste of freedom. But here he was again, trapped because of his actions- it was quite like the time he had spent in the Staja. Just thinking about his past and his present position made Alex's hands tremble with fury, and he decided he needed a distraction. It was time to wake up Poncho.

      Leaning over the woman to whom Alex had saddled himself, Alex propped himself up by his hands and carefully unleashed a wad of saliva in her face. Poncho showed no signs of having felt him spit on her, but her eyelids wrinkled up, giving away the façade. Glaring now, and feeling utterly out of sorts, Alex lifted a hand and slapped Poncho across the face. Her sightless eyes popped open with a gasp.

       "Get up!" Alex barked before Poncho could say anything. She wordlessly hoisted herself into a sitting position, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. "What- what do you want, Mr. DeLarge?"

        "Shut your rot," Alex ordered mindlessly. It was the same order he gave to Poncho every day. "Don't skazat a slovo until I tell you to." He moved towards Poncho and tugged her unwilling body into his, kissing her split lips and biting them to taste blood in his mouth. But it wasn't random sex with Poncho that he wanted, and frustration settled over him. Growling under his breath, Alex pushed Poncho away towards the makeshift wall of her domy and turned around, staring at the half-open door with a newfound hatred. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be released from this place-!

       Poncho began to cough, and the sound was so irritating that Alex whirled back around. "What is it?" he demanded roughly.

       "I- I really don't feel well," she gasped between coughs. "Please, Mr. DeLarge, if you'll let me-"

       "The supply of pischa is running low, my sister," Alex cut her off. It was bound to happen at some point. The two had been living together for a week now, and Alex hadn't let Poncho out of her home once, for fear that she would run off and sic the Metrocops on him. For a blind woman, she seemed to be quite clever and crafty, and Alex needed to keep an eye on her. He had broken her spirit through repeated beatings, but he figured that would only make her more desperate to escape.

       "Pischa?" Poncho repeated lifelessly. She still hadn't gotten the hang of most nadsat-talk words.

"Yes,  _pischa,"_ Alex spat contemptuously. "Food, if you will. There is not enough to last another week. What do you suppose we shall do about that?"

       Poncho only stared in the direction of Alex’s voice, her hopeless expression draining away until anger had replaced it. "If you were merciful," she said, rubbing her arms, "you would go out on your own and leave me here to starve. I don't know why you haven't left the house in a week, unless torturing me is more important to vermin like you."

_House?_ Alex snorted; the shoddy dwelling didn't deserve such a title. "I am _not_ merciful, oh my sister," he hissed softly, desperately wishing that she could see his eyes and know he was not fooling her. "You have known the great DeLarge. Merciful I am not, nor will I ever be." Poncho gave no reply, hanging her head as if she had realized the futility of her position. Alex stalked towards her, catching a snatch of indistinct TV chatter from the outside world as he did so. The televised voices bore into his brain and irritated him still further. His harsh hands clasped Poncho's shoulders as he longed for a way to take his feelings out on her. She would pay for what had been done to him… he didn't care if she was rotting on the inside, he would show her no mercy in his blows…

       "’Ello? Poncho?"

       Alex spun around, draping one arm around Poncho so that she couldn't run away. A visitor had stopped by the door, a grizzled-looking man wearing the vintage clothing of what had once been called "the punk movement,” before the punks turned vicious like Alex. He seemed just as shocked to see Alex as Alex was to see him.

       "What have we here?" he blurted. "Who are you, young man?"

       "The eemya's DeLarge," Alex blurted. He wasn't sure how well this newcomer knew Poncho, but maybe if he used his natural knack for lying he could wheedle his way out of this. The man didn't seem to recognize Alex from the description given on TV. Quickly, Alex tugged Poncho forward and slid the strap of her top up, adjusting her so that she was sitting on his lap. The semblance of sweetness made Alex want to gag, but he forced himself to carry through with it, supporting Poncho when her head lolled back.

       "Appy polly loggies for not like introducing myself beforehand," Alex said, smiling broadly. "Poncho and I met recently. We've been living together. You must be the veck she was telling me about." He held out his hand, but the man drew back, concern and suspicion flaring in his eyes.

       "I'm here because I haven't seen Poncho out and about lately,” he said, his voice cloaked in a thick accent. "And I'd like to know what you're doing with her, and why she'd invite a chap like you into her house."

_Like me?_ Alex bristled, unable to believe the indignity of having been judged by his cover. His smile cracked around the edges, but he held his convivial tone firmly. "For your like information, Poncho has become my droog, and we're-"

        "REG!" Poncho suddenly shouted, her hands reaching around, straining against Alex's iron grip. "Blank Reg! He's been holding me captive for a week- he's hurt me-"

       " _Shut your rot!"_ Alex howled, cupping his hand around her mouth and pressing down firmly while she squirmed. A second later, he realized that the illusion had been broken, but it was too late. Reg stared at Alex with surprise and realization dawning on his face.

       "You're the bloke that Edison was looking for," he said. "The one who attacked his friend. I haven't heard nadsat-talk in years, but I'd recognize it anywhere."

       "Mmph," Poncho tried to say around Alex's cruel hand, tears welling in her eyes. Alex merely sneered. "And you think that you shall be quite a challenge for the likes of me? Let us viddy that, my brother. I fancy that you will not like stand a chance against my britva." His hand groped against the floor for his trusty straight razor, but before he reached it Reg darted into the dwelling with agility that belied his age and hauled Alex to his feet. Alex had no time to react before Reg struck him in the head with a nasty blow that instantly put him out cold. He crumbled in a heap on the ground. Reg surveyed his work for a second before kneeling down to gather Poncho into his arms.

       "Come on, Ponch. Let's get you to a doctor. I'll deal with this one later." He lifted Poncho and carried her out of her home into the bright sunlight of a new dawn.

*

       "He's all yours," Rik said, handing a snarling and protesting Alex over to Blank Reg. Reg nodded and clapped Alex on the back, locking him beneath his arm so that he couldn't get away. "Ta, mate. Remind me to repay you someday."

       "There's no need," Rik said, adjusting his sunglasses. "They'd better give you some kind of reward for this. It's lucky you went looking Poncho today."

       "Yeah," Reg mumbled, glancing down at his shoes. "Luckier that I got her to the medcen in time." With that, he hauled Alex away, calling "See you, Rik!" over his shoulder. Alex tried to plant his feet in the ground, but Reg's powerful grip forced him along.

       "You grahzny bratchny!" Alex roared, so furious that he could hardly see straight. "You shall pay for your filthy sins! You shall pay for keeping Alex DeLarge locked up."

       "Now come along, sonny," Reg murmured as if he hadn't heard Alex, herding him towards the waiting van. "I've dealt with your like before. All bark and no bite, eh?" Of course this wasn't true- he had seen the horrific injuries that Alex had dealt his illicit lover, Poncho- but it was more important to humiliate Alex and show him who was boss. There would be no messing around with Blank Reg in the house.

       As Reg and Alex approached the van from which Big Time Television broadcast, the door to the vehicle flew open and out bounded a large black dog. It rounded on Alex and immediately began growling at him, its hackles raising. Alex sneered right back at the creature, but Reg only laughed. "Hey, Fang! This 'ere's a special guest of ours, who's heading straight to prison. You wouldn't mind keepin' a close watch on him?"

       "Reg," simpered a voice from within the van. "Who have you brought here with you?" As Blank Reg yanked Alex into position before the van, he caught sight of flashing eyes and the glowing end of a cigarette, and fancied a beautiful cheena lying behind the snootiness of her voice. Then she waltzed into view, and Alex could have spat with disgust. This woman was obviously trying to put on airs that she normally lacked. Her blue eyes were heavily coated in a thick layer of makeup, and her dress flounced around her body as if it had a mind of its own. Her hair was done up in complicated curls, and the expression on her face clearly told Alex that he meant as much to her as a dead bug.

       "This is the chap that Edison was trying to catch a few days ago!" Reg declared, triumph written all over his face. "You remember, when he called us up an' everything? I found him hiding out in some scummy hole down in the Fringes and brought the bugger to light. There could be a major reward for turning 'im in!"

       At once the woman's expression turned to one of horror. "Reg! We're not keeping a criminal in our house!"

       "You call  _that_ a domy?" Alex stated, incredulous. He tried to laugh, but Reg suddenly crushed him closer to his body, and the air fled his lungs. It was like yanking a dog's choke chain. Unable to breathe, Alex settled for merely spitting on the ground before him.

        "I know he's dangerous, Dom," Reg said in an attempt to placate the cheena. "I saw for meself what rotten things he had done. He's left a trail of destruction in his wake." Alex wanted to shout that it was all a vonny lie, but he was more concerned with gasping for the air that Reg wasn't permitting him.

       "But," Reg said, stepping forward and tugging Alex along, "if we hold onto 'im for long enough, the Metrocops could pay us decently for public service and the like. Y'know, this 'ere's a wanted man, and if Edison was after him there has to be something to it. We could make ourselves a pretty penny, eh, Dom- what d'you say?"

        Dom's lip curled, but she stepped back from the door. "All right, all right. I guess he's worth turning in. But wouldn't it be better if we brought him to Edison instead of the Metrocops? You remember he told us that the Metrocops had called off their search."

        As Reg's muscles relaxed, Alex perked up. Now here was some worthwhile news, the first he had received in a week. Obviously an associate of the Minister of the Interior had contacted the Metrocops. He would go to any length to keep the news of Alex's return to evil secret. If all went well and these foolish Blanks handled the situation to Alex's favor, he might be able to walk free. Emboldened, Alex cried out to the couple, "Please please please don't turn me into the Metrocops! I cannot like bear another year in the Staja… I cannot-"

       That was enough to make Blank Reg clap his beefy hand over Alex's mouth, but it was also enough, he hoped, for the seeds to be planted in his head. He fought a smile from working its way across his face. Perhaps if he begged profusely for Reg to not turn him into the Metrocops, Reg would do just that, thinking that it was what Alex feared he most. But on the contrary, he would be leading Alex right to where he wanted to be. The Metrocops, against their better judgment, would turn Alex loose and state publicly that it had all been a misunderstanding. He would return to London, discontent to lead a peaceful life, but still in a better position than he would have been had he been convicted. The false memories of the Ludovico treatment that had composed Alex’s dream the night before returned to him, and he suppressed a shudder.

       "Well, I suppose that's settled, then," Reg growled in Alex's ear. "Into the State Jail with you." Though Alex slumped in apparent defeat, he could have jumped for joy. Reg might consider himself clever, but Alex had clearly outsmarted him this time. He didn't even mind when Reg pulled him through the door, slammed him into a corner of the mobile home, and tied him up with rope that Dom found. While Alex scowled at everyone and occasionally spat obscenities, on the inside he was elated.

       "Pull away, Dom!" Reg cried as she darted into the front of the van and revved the engine. "I think our work here is done!" The dog, Fang, bounded in at the last minute, and Reg rubbed its ears as the van began to move. Alex curled into the corner and glared at Fang as it rounded on him, snarling deep in its throat. "Get away from me, you grahzny dog."

       "You're not going to get rid of 'im that easy," Reg said knowingly as he sat down in front of a vidicam hooked up to a static-ridden TV. "Calm down a bit and he might start fancying you, even!"

_Ugh._ It wasn’t hard for Alex to maintain his sullen façade. He avoided Fang and watched Reg's movements intently as the mobile home chugged its way down the bumpy streets. Reg appeared to be broadcasting from the vidicam as a symbol flashed up on the TV screen- a logo that read BIG TIME TELEVISION.

       "Greetings to you all from Big Time TV, all day every day, making tomorrow seem like yesterday," Blank Reg said into the camera with a wide, rehearsed smile. "Remember when we said there was no future? Well, this is it. Today’s a day for celebration. Let's put on an old favorite of mine- 'Bad Reputation' by Joan Jett!" With a few deft movements, the music video was soon playing onscreen, blaring hard rock throughout the entire van.

       Alex sat back and groaned as if in pain. The music sickened him, but only because it was so far from the classical compositions that he knew and loved. Fang paced back and forth before settling into a dog-shaped ball with his tail touching his nose. As Joan Jett blared on and Reg got up from his seat, Alex decided in a snap to have some fun on the way to the Metrocops. He could pretend to bargain for his life while actually fillying about with the Blanks that held him captive. After having watched Dom and Reg and analyzed their brief interactions, he thought he knew exactly how to do that.

       "Blank Reg, my brother," Alex implored as Reg crossed the floor, presumably to go check on Dom. Reg halted warily.

       "What is it, son?"

       Alex grinned an evil grin and spoke just loud enough for Reg to hear him over the music, but not so that Dom could hear from her position at the front of the vehicle. "That cheena of yours is really quite horrorshow. Does she like know that you have a secret lover in the Fringes?"

       "What?" Reg blurted, staring hard at Alex without a trace of a smile. "Dom's my boss. She handles all the monetary stuff for Big Time TV. She's not my lover, son."

       "Then why did you take Poncho to the medcen first before bringing me here, oh my brother?" Alex asked, staring equally as hard at his captor. His blue eyes turned into chips of ice.              "Why didn't you like tell Dom that you found me at her domy?" God, his nadsat-talk was rusty. He needed to brush up one of these days.

       "Because Dom doesn't like the idea of me consorting with folks like her," Reg said shortly. "Round here, there are many young girls who make their living selling their bodies, and even though Poncho doesn't go in for that she's easily mistaken for one of them. Dom just doesn't want me to waste my money."

       "Are you sure about that?" Alex said,. "Why wouldn't you just tell her that Poncho's harmless? Or do you think that she'd be like jealous and all that cal?"

       "Son, what I do with women is my own business," Reg stated stiffly. "And it's none of yours." He started to walk past him, but Alex, in the mood for more fillying, decided to raise his voice to Dom and shout, "Hey, driver! There's something you need to hear!"

       "SHUT UP!" Blank Reg roared, grabbing Alex by the collar and hauling him up. Despite himself, Alex couldn't help letting glee fill his face.

       "Reg, what's going on back there?" Dom's voice sailed out of the front of the van, and Reg hastened to call back before Alex could answer for him. "Nothing, Dominique! Just tryin' to have a conversation with this chap!"

       "Well, converse more quietly!" Dominique replied. In that moment, the song came to a close, filling the air with silence. With a murderous gleam in his eye, Reg returned to the vidicam and straightened out his expression long enough to say, "You liked that, didn't you? Well, it never hurts to play it again." Soon the music swelled once more, and Reg rushed back to where Alex was tottering on his feet, unbalanced due to the ropes that bound his hands and feet.

       "Get down," Reg hissed angrily, pushing Alex over. He toppled easily back into the corner, still grinning that maniacal grin. "Welly welly welly well. I viddy this relationship most perfectly. You are in love, my brother."

       "We've danced," Reg said in a tone that begged Alex to shut up. "But that's all it was, dancing. We've never done anything more. What are you saying all this for?"

       "I just want to be released, oh my brother," Alex said in a sincere, plaintive tone. "Surely you can pony that. I cannot go back to the Staja."

       Reg grunted. "Well, it's to the State Jail you're going to go." And Alex inflated with happiness, so that he couldn't wipe away his grin. He didn't even mind when Reg headbutted him again and he fell limp and silent to the ground.

       "Goodness, Reg," Dominique said when she emerged from the driver's seat a few moments later. "I know he's a criminal, but that's still no way to treat your guests."

       "I had to," was all that Blank Reg said in return, staring with disgust at the unconscious Alex Burgess. He didn't dare to look at Dom, for fear that she would suspect ulterior motives. Though Dominique was not his lover, Reg couldn't help but wish that she was. But who did he love more, Poncho or Dominique? Did he have to make a choice?

*

       "You  _bastards!"_ Alex spat, snarling and twisting in the grip of two Metrocops as they hauled him through the row of prisoners and tossed him into a cell. He ran at the door just as it clanged shut, his hands grasping cold, metal bars. The password-protected door blinked its yellow light mockingly.

       "How can you do this to me?" Alex shrieked, even as the Metrocops retreated. "I'm not the right man! I wouldn't have done such a sinful thing!"

       After days of living on his own in the Fringes, it was difficult for Alex to remember how normal people spoke. The words he threw at the Metrocops made him shudder inwardly, but he realized he had to act the part of an innocent man if he ever hoped to get free. But why were they chaining him up anyway? Had Blank Reg been bluffing when he said that the Metrocops had called off their search? Or was Alex wrong to assume they were under orders from the Minister of the Interior?

      Sulking and unable to relax, Alex restlessly paced his newfound cell from top to bottom. He listened sharply to the voices of other protesting inmates, but the sounds were far apart, echoing off the cold walls. This prison didn't seem nearly as crowded as the Staja from way back when. The TVs must have pacified the people to the point of reason, as had been hoped when they were implemented. Now no human being could live without owning or watching one. Thinking of the way that the world had changed made Alex tremble angrily, and he kicked the wall. He had to get out of here. He couldn't have been duped like this.

        It seemed like an hour of pacing and growling under his breath before a visitor dropped in. By then Alex had given up hope and slumped down on the hard, uncomfortable cot that was the prison's excuse for a bed, resting his chin on his clasped hands. His mind was calm, moving beyond anger and death threats to clever scheming. How was he to get out of this place? His eyes moved to the barred window in his cell, letting in pallid light. Well, _that_ might be a good place to start…

       That was when footsteps sounded in the hall outside of Alex's cell, and he thrust himself to his feet, watching as a man in a white suit approached the door. "Alexander Burgess?" His brow was furrowed and his eyes were wide.

       "What do you want?" Alex asked in a tone that he hoped would make the man shut up and go away.

       In answer, the man brushed his fingers against the password protecting device, which made the barred door to the cell swing open. Alex stared at it in disbelief, not sure if he should trust this source of freedom.

       "I'm a representative of the Minister of the Interior," the man explained hurriedly, backing away from the door. "We got to you just in time. There's been a mistake- you're not the man that Network 23 wants."

       Slowly, the explanation dawned on Alex, and a grin split his face. So the current Minister of the Interior was still more concerned with how he did in the new telelections than the fact that he was letting his city harbor dangerous criminals. Filled with glee, Alex stepped buoyantly out the door and promptly saluted his savior. "Thank you very much, sir!" He pushed past him and strode jauntily down the hall, beginning to whistle as the man called behind him, "Your belongings that you left at the Hotel Paris Hilton are located in the main office!"

_Thank you, thank you,_ Alex thought, his mind already dismissing the man in favor of looking out for number one. So, even though he had molested a network employee, he had been declared innocent without a trial. Thank the government protection that ruled his life! He could now collect his things, head straight off to the mag-lev station, and go back home to his malenky domy in London, to begin another day working at Gramodisc. He could-

       The thought was cut short as Alex reached the main office. None of the Metrocops paid him any mind- they were all intently watching the TV set in the middle of the room. Alex couldn't see the screen properly from his angle in the doorway, but he instinctively crept back as he heard that infernal Carter's voice sound from the TV. "…exclusive tape of the attack," he was saying. "And now, a warning to all viewers. The images presented in the following tape are extremely, graphically violent. No viewer under the age of eighteen should see this, nor should any viewer with a weak staomch." With that, the tape began, and Alex was shocked to the core as he heard his own voice from the TV, issuing insults and orders in nadsat-talk at that boy he had found in the network building. What was his name… Bryce? Alarmed, Alex shrunk back against the wall and watched as the faces of the Metrocops changed from blank expressions to horror.

       At once, Alex took off running. He headed through the corridors without a care in the world. At last he was free, blinking in the bright air of the blessed outdoors. He walked away at a brisk pace without even knowing where he was going. Anywhere but the Metropolice station.

       "Sodding  _cal!"_ The Metrocops were onto Alex now, thanks to that damn Carter. How the hell had he even gotten that footage? Surely not even the power of the Minister of the Interior's protection was enough to save him now. Alex's first instinct was to find someone and punch them out, but he had to control himself. He had to present a respectable image until he returned to the Fringes and preyed on some new woman… Suddenly the lurid fantasies changed from those of stripping and raping a female Fringer to those of beating his frustration out on Bryce. Yes! If Alex could get to Bryce before anyone else could, he could kill him to keep him from saying another word about his attack. Then he would lie low for a week or two, maybe even change his name, until the government officials came in to handle everything properly and silence the Metrocops once and for all.

       But how was Alex to get back inside Network 23's headquarters? Not even the guard he had bribed would let him in now, not after today's broadcast.

       As Alex pulled up short in front of a building to think, he spied a woman making her way down the street towards him. There was something strangely familiar about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it until she nearly passed him. An image flashed in Alex's mind's eye. She was one of the female controllers from Network 23. Without thinking, Alex slipped silently behind her and followed her, catching up to her easily and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Hi hi hi there, my pretty molodoy sister," he simpered.

       The woman turned her head sharply in surprise, her eyes widening. "You're-"

       Alex swung her into the shadows of a nearby alleyway and squeezed a pressure point at the back of her neck, so that she never got the chance to identify him. She slumped forward in his arms, and he carried her away, scheming all the while.


	10. Chapter 10

         A sharp, Edison-like cry greeted Theora as soon as she walked through the doors of the control room at Network 23. “ _What?!”_

It looked like it was time for a pit stop. Theora swerved from her original path and hovered over Edison’s shoulder, peering discreetly at the image on the viewphone. The face of the now-familiar chief of the Metropolice stared back at her, looking full-on guilty. From his expression, and the visible tension in Edison’s body, Theora guessed that something had gone wrong in the search for Alex Burgess, which so far had lasted a week. Edison had had to chew out the Metrocops in order to get them involved again. Such blatant ignorance of their appointed job sickened Theora, and repulsed Edison. Obviously someone with a lot of money was holding a threat or a bribe over their heads, but despite Edison’s efforts, none of the Metrocops had cracked and revealed who it was.

         As a compromise, Edison had agreed that if he could provide hard evidence that Alex Burgess was not only the most likely suspect, but indeed the guilty party, the Metrocops would resume their search. And so Max had stepped in, always willing to help out his team at 23- or maybe just to get more airtime. With Bryce’s help, Max’s memory had been scanned and uploaded to Theora’s terminal, from which it was possible to create a tape for Edison to roll during his next broadcast of _The Edison Carter Show: What I Want To Know._  They’d aired it in those sweet viewing hours loved by every TV network, the time when the middle class had gone home after working all day and the lower classes were wandering the streets, in search of quick and easy entertainment. There was no need to worry about the upper class, for they were personally invested in the TV networks and always kept their TVs tuned to the channel they sponsored.

        “The images presented in the following tape are extremely, graphically violent,” Edison had said before showing Max’s eyewitness report of Bryce’s attack. “No viewer under the age of eighteen should see this…” With that, the broadcast went out to the world, showing everyone within distance the horrifying acts that Alex Burgess had committed in the Network 23 building. And in response, the world was definitely interested. Theora found it a risky move to regain high ratings and pique public interest. Though Edison’s warning to the viewers was serious, she knew most wouldn’t turn their faces away from the screen, repelled and yet simultaneously, repugnantly fascinated.

          “Sex and v-v-violence!” Max had crowed when Bryce pried the tape from his virtual cranium. “The c-c-classic elements- what m-more do you want? Want?”

         Though Max’ joke was off-color, the ratings showed that viewership had increased since that last hour of broadcast. It was then that Theora stepped out to use the restroom. Now she stood behind Edison, her heart beating fast to hear the Metrocops’ response to the broadcast. Not that she dared get too close. Not only had her relationship with Edison been chilly as of late, but he was also clearly raging. His body was angled towards the viewphone as if he wanted to reach through the screen and grab the neck of the Metrocops’ chief with his bare hands, and even from a short distance Theora practically felt intense waves radiating from him. If he had entered Network 23 in this state, she thought, employees would both scatter and peep out from behind their terminals. She stood silently, not daring to let Edison know that she was there.

       “I’m sorry, Mr. Carter,” the chief of the Metrocops was saying. “The mistake is entirely ours. We didn’t-”

         “You didn’t think to call me first before letting Alex Burgess walk right out of his cage?” Edison spat with venomous fury. Theora couldn’t stop herself from sucking in a breath. What had happened down at the police station? The Metrocop chief tried to placate Edison as he spoke, gesturing in a way that suggested he would have placed his hands on Edison’s shoulders if Edison were physically present. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “We just didn’t think. Two Fringers brought him in, one of whom was a Blank. We just can’t trust them to properly identify criminals.”

         “Dom and Reg,” Edison muttered under his breath. “Why didn’t they-” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead gazing sternly at the head of the Metrocops. “So you’re saying every single Metrocop down at the station just had a- a momentary lapse of judgment, because two _Fringers_ turned him in? When _I_ was the one to search the Fringes in the _first place?!”_ His voice was rising dangerously now, adopting an irate tone as the incredulous stupidity of the Metrocops’ actions took shape. “That’s a flimsy excuse even for you guys, and you _know it!”_ His fist pounded the table. Theora decided it would be best to jump in. She intervened smoothly, stepping forward and gently prodding Edison aside. “What’s going on?” she murmured, her mouth close to his ear but her eyes trained on the viewphone’s screen every second.

        “That man-” Edison said, and then broke off, seemingly too disgusted to tell the entire story. “He let Alex walk out of the police station. They all did. Reg and Dominique brought him into the station mere minutes before our broadcast, and no one called us until he had escaped!”

        Theora nudged Edison as a ripple of fury passed through his body. “Calm down,” she murmured. “I’ll handle this.” Edison shot her a dark look, obviously unwilling for her to take control of what he felt was his situation to handle, but Theora pretended not to notice. She took Edison’s place before the viewphone, meeting the chief’s eyes. “How did Alex Burgess escape?”

          “The thing is, we were going to ‘phone somebody,” the chief said immediately, as if trying to make up for his unfortunate deeds. “We had him in the cage, all ready to go. We were about to call you up at 23 when this guy comes in. A representative of the Minister of the Interior in London, requesting permission to see Alex. Naturally we granted it- he had all the official forms of identification. Next thing we knew, Edison’s broadcast was on. When it finished, we were going to convict Alex for good, but when we went back there we found that the cage was open. His visitor must have helped him escape.” The chief sighed and passed a hand along his face. “It’s been a tough week here, let me tell you.”

        Theora nodded, but couldn’t keep  a small frown from appearing on her face. Something didn’t feel right about the Metrocops’ story. From behind her, she heard Edison repeat “The Minister of the _Interior?”_ as if he had never heard the title before.

         “Do you suppose he was an impersonator?” she said suddenly. The chief shook his head. “We verified his ID. He was definitely the real thing.”

         “Then why,” Edison began, moving forward to grip the sides of the viewphone with iron fingers, “was he protecting Alex?”

         Silence filled the air for a moment, until Theora whispered, “He’s keeping the secret safe.”

         Before Edison or the chief could respond, a voice rang out from behind.

       “Well, gang,” Murray began as he came forward to meet Edison and Theora, “I’ve just got off the phone with Cheviot and it looks like we’re doing something right. The ratings are up by fifteen percent.”

          “My God, that’s great!” Theora exclaimed, but Edison only muttered a distracted, “Good.” He stepped away from the viewphone, gesturing towards the screen. “Murray, there’s someone here who has a lot to answer for.”

         As Murray came forward to wrap up the call, and as the chief of the Metrocops retold his sordid story, Edison leaned forward and touched Theora on the arm- not hard, but with enough pressure to mean business. “Theora,” he said in a barely audible whisper. “What was that about keeping the secret safe?”

        Addled by the return of Edison’s intense interest, Theora collected herself before answering. “It was just an assumption, but do you remember how-”

        “Hey, what’s going on?” The greeting from a fourth party put an end to Theora’s fervent explanation. She watched as a face both familiar and unfamiliar approached, each step conveying self-assurance. Theora had encountered the person who had just entered many times before the Alex Burgess scandal began, but now he was so vastly different that she preferred to call him New Bryce instead of simply Bryce Lynch. New Bryce wore new clothing to signify his change. A thick leather jacket and a plain white T-shirt replaced faded, slightly grimy T’s, and his pants were also leather, instead of jeans. His sneakers had disappeared, leaving a pair of black motorcycle boots in their place. Even the thick-framed glasses were cool, cocked at a sly angle on New Bryce’s nose. His entire appearance suggested that he could hold his own in a fight against anyone, which was pretty much the entire point. Fed up with constant worrying from his parents and from Theora, the former Bryce Lynch had decided to pick up new clothes that made him look tougher, in order to show them that they had nothing to fear. Of course, the defense was in looks only. Theora got the feeling that no matter how cool New Bryce acted, he would always be scarred on the inside, the memories of his attack simmering just below his surface. But while his clothing was just for show, his weapon certainly wasn’t. It had been days since Theora had caught Bryce with his knife, but she could still hear each voice, hers and Bryce’s, as vividly in her ears as if she were watching her life noisily unfold onstage.

        “Bryce? What are you doing with that… switchblade?” It had looked like a switchblade from her angle of observation, but Theora hadn’t been entirely sure because as soon as Bryce noticed she was watching, he pocketed the object.

        “It’s to defend myself against A.” Bryce turned to her with a mixture of determination and foreboding. “You know. Now that we’re working together, I’ve gotta find a way to protect myself that doesn’t involve a computer. With them, you can just put up firewalls, but human beings are a lot more limited.”

       Theora had protested, insisting that Bryce didn’t need to defend himself because she and Edison would never let him get in harm’s way, but Bryce had just shaken his head. “I thought no one could hurt me in my studio, and look what happened. I can’t trust the great indoors, Theora. That’s why I need to carry this with me.” It had been impossible to argue after that, even though the thought of a seventeen year old using a switchblade made Theora shudder. She wondered if this was how Alex had begun his descent into darkness- defending himself from others until he was the one to be feared- or if he had been born with an evil seed in him that drove him to ruin lives as it sprouted and blossomed.

         “Hey, Bryce,” Edison greeted New Bryce as he came forward. Theora managed to flash a smile at him, her memories before dissipating. “What’s up?”

        New Bryce shrugged. “The roof?” His sense of humor hadn’t changed along with his clothing style. “I came to see the public’s reaction to Edison’s broadcast.” Turning his head a little, he caught sight of Murray talking tensely on the viewphone, and took a curious step towards him. “What’s going on?”

        “Bryce…” Theora began gently, but then stopped herself, envisioning Bryce’s response to the news that Alex had accidentally been released. Surely his courageous façade couldn’t last but so long.

         “We’ve got some bad news,” Edison said, his voice a rough murmur. Bryce expectantly turned his face in his direction. “What is it, Edison?”

        Edison stared into Bryce’s eyes. “It appears that you-know-who has escaped.”

         “You know w-” Bryce began to repeat. Suddenly he was struck dumb, his eyes glazing over. “ _No…”_

        “I’m sorry,” Edison muttered, before callously turning away from the scene. Theora was left staring at New Bryce, whose face had drained of color. Numbly, he lifted a hand to stroke the barely-visible spots where Alex had dug broken glass into his face, a tremor passing through him. His lips parted in a single word. _“What?”_

“It’s going to be all right,” Theora mindlessly calmed Bryce, placing her hand on his leather-clad shoulder. Fear shone from beneath his glasses, giving him the impression of a young child playing at being an adult by wearing his father’s clothes. This was not New Bryce that Theora was touching. This was the old Bryce, his fearless mask evaporated.

       “But… what happened?” Bryce murmured, his eyes seeking out answers. “How did-” He didn’t finish his sentence, wrenching himself from beneath Theora’s grip and pelting towards the viewphone. Reluctantly, Theora made her way towards the rest of the group.

        “Thank you,” Murray was saying. “We’ll keep in touch.” The Disconnect symbol appeared onscreen. Murray turned around and sighed at the appearance of Bryce, seemingly unsurprised by his presence. “A’s been turned in, but someone got to him before we could.”

       “How did it happen?” Bryce asked breathlessly, and Murray repeated the story- how Blank Reg and Dominique had found Alex in the Fringes and handed him over to the Metrocops, and how a representative of London’s Minister of the Interior had released him before the Metrocops got the chance to contact Network 23, much less to watch the undeniable proof of Alex’s guilt that was broadcast a few minutes later. Bryce stoically absorbed the news. His countenance became a blank slate, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Yet when he spoke, distant panic coated his words.

         “Do- do you think he’ll try to come after me again?”

        “We’ll make sure that he won’t, Bryce,” Theora said, while Murray added in a detached tone, “A is most likely running for the hills, if he knows what’s good for him.”

       Only Edison seemed unconvinced, his face hardening into deep lines of concern. Theora was about to ask what he suspected Alex of, but Edison got there before her. “Or he might not be. Theora here had an idea about his motives, which she was just about to explain before Bryce came in.” He turned his cold blue eyes onto Theora, and at first the surprise that Edison was talking to her again was too overwhelming. Throughout the past week, their friendly, witty exchanges and shared small talk outside work had dwindled and diminished. Theora still wasn’t sure of Edison’s motives for withdrawing from her- he couldn’t possibly still think that she and Bryce were romantically involved. She had tried her best to conceal their frayed relationship from outsiders. Bryce, entangled in his work for Control, was oblivious to any internal struggles, and Murray seemed to have caught a few whiffs of discontent but had ultimately been too polite to say anything. This suited Theora, as she knew Edison couldn’t stay mad at her forever. At the very least, seeing less of Edison meant that Theora could see more of Kent, who had stayed over at her place all week.

        Theora returned from her memories with a furrowed brow, unsure as to what Edison was talking about. Then she remembered what she had been about to tell Edison when Bryce interrupted, and the words fell unsteadily from her mouth. “I… I think I know why the Minister of the Interior released you-know-who,” she said. “We know that he’s a government worker and supports the Minister in every telelection, and we also know that the Ludovico treatment didn’t work on him. Perhaps the Minister of the Interior knows this and gave him the job at Gramodisc as a bribe to keep him out of trouble… and perhaps the representative released him to keep the secret from spreading.”

       A pause greeted Theora’s words. Then Murray, Edison, and Bryce began talking all at once.

        “That’s an awful lot of speculation…” Murray began.

       “Now that Max’s clip has been broadcast, the secret is out,” Edison contributed, relief peppering his voice.

        “No,” Bryce hissed under his breath. “I can’t… I won’t let him touch me again.” In a split second he had become New Bryce, his analytical, warm eyes turning to steel. He slid his hand into the pocket of his jacket, fingering the switchblade that Theora knew for sure was there. In an instant, her entire attention shifted to Bryce. “Just because he’s free doesn’t mean he’ll come after you, Bryce.”

        “I know, Theora,” New Bryce said, blinking in a way that was still so innocent, no matter how tough he looked on the outside. “I’m not afraid anymore. I _want_ him to come to me.”

       “Bryce, you don’t have to take revenge,” Edison piped up, providing a clear voice of reason. “I know it’s tempting, but honestly, when A gets tried his punishment will be revenge enough.”

        “If what you’re saying is true, Theora,” Murray murmured, ignoring New Bryce’s fervor, “Network 23 has unleashed a scandal. It’ll be all over London in a few minutes- hell, for all we know it probably is.”

       “It could go further than a scandal,” said Theora quietly. “It could be a war.”

       Her mind fell into the depths of imagination as she pondered what would happen when London found out the news that Network 23 had just broadcast. They might simply attempt to refute the claim, stating that Max had observed the attack from behind. It could have been any man with fair hair and the same build. If they failed to make a convincing case, the reputation of the Minister of the Interior might be ruined forever, thanks to Network 23. Or they might choose to ignore the information. Alex Burgess couldn’t possibly be the only criminal that London’s government was hiding from the public eye.

        Fortunately Theora didn’t have to think too hard about the possibilities, for Edison cut in sharply. “War’s not a word to use lightly, Theora. The reaction of London’s officials doesn’t matter as much as tracking down A.” Already his body had shaped itself into a subtle position that meant business. Edison was ready to make up for the Metrocops’ botched job, determined not to let Alex Burgess slip through his fingers again.

        “So now what do we do?” Bryce asked, equal amounts of eagerness and trepidation showing in his voice.

        “That depends,” Edison said, turning to Murray. “Depends on whether or not the boss will let me… head downtown for a bit.” His eyebrows angled upward expectantly as Murray focused his gaze on him. “Are you suggesting a search of the Fringes?”

       “With your permission of course, _sir,”_ Edison replied, and Theora held back a snicker. Murray paid the comment no mind. “Get Martinez to take you,” he said, already turning back to the viewphone. “I’ll call the Metrocops and get them to do a wide sweep of the area. This time, no criminal is escaping us.”

        “I’ll stay with Theora,” Bryce volunteered. “I want to see how it all plays out.”

         “Good choice, kid,” Edison muttered. Bryce had to dodge a sudden hand launched at his head, with the intent of mussing up his hair. “Keeps you out of harm’s way.”

        “Well, naturally,” Bryce said, his hands tangling into themselves. “I can’t wait to see if we catch A tonight.” He then took off in the direction of Theora’s terminal, and a sea of eyes followed him. The other controllers in the room had come to learn that when New Bryce was at the terminal, things meant business.

       “Good luck to you, Edison,” Theora said as Murray began punching in the numbers to ring up the Metrocops. Edison nodded and flashed a one-second pearly smile. Seeing his warmth directed towards her, Theora couldn’t help but smile back.

       When Theora smiled, Edison leaned his head towards her, his lips at her ear. Only she could hear the words that he next spoke. “You know that I… I wasn’t really mad at you this week?”

       “Weren’t you?” Theora murmured; it had sure seemed that way to her. Edison pulled back and gazed into her eyes, his expression unreadable. “Listen. I’m sorry for the way I treated you all week. I just… I had some suspicions that turned out to be unfounded. Can we still be friends?” He held out his hand to Theora, the hint of an apologetic smile playing about his lips- but Theora surprised herself by not agreeing to the handshake. Her eyes narrowed a fraction, and her lips pushed into a pout. What suspicions was Edison talking about?

       “Excuse me,” she said in a coy voice. “I thought we already were friends.” Then- “What were you suspicious about, Edison?”

       He let his hand fall. “It’s fine. It turned out to be nothing. Can’t we just shake on it?”

       _Not when your hand is down,_ Theora thought. She blinked slowly, scrutinizing Edison. “Did it have anything to do with Bryce?” Such an assumption was absurd, but it was the only cause for concern that she could think of Edison as having.

       A surprised look came across Edison’s face. “Bryce? What about Bryce?”

       “Oh, it turned out to be nothing,” Theora said smoothly. “I just don’t think I can forgive you, unless you explain why you were ignoring me.” She didn’t really feel the need to go as far as that, but she knew it was a good way to make Edison tell her.

       He paused, before his words collapsed. “I wasn’t concerned about Bryce… just about someone… older than he is.”

       Immediately Theora saw what Edison was insinuating, and her heart dropped. At last, she had to tell him about Kent. She couldn’t keep up the pretense forever, even if it risked her working relationship with Edison.

         But just as Theora opened her mouth to speak the dreaded words- words that might cut Edison off from her entirely- she found she couldn’t bring herself to it. Her tongue was dragged in a different direction.

       “Edison, there’s no one in my life right now.” A small part of Theora stood by and watched herself with seething hatred. What was she _doing?_ She would have been mortified had Edison told her such a lie- what made her think she could get away with it? Briefly Theora wished that Edison would realize that she was lying, but he didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Instead, he gave a wink and another carefree smile. “Except, of course, for yours truly.”

         “Don’t bank on it,” Theora muttered, at once back to her old self. “And the next time you decide to get nosy about my life-”

           “I’ll remember to mind my business,” Edison finished swiftly. He reached out and patted Theora’s shoulder in a way that he intended as comfortable, but felt completely awkward. “Well, it’s about time Martinez and I head down to the Fringes. There’s a certain criminal from London afoot whom we need to track down.” He smiled so dazzlingly that Theora couldn’t help but return it. Then he was gone, leaving Theora alone with her guilt in a room full of buzzing terminals and chattering controllers. _What had she done?_

“Secrets, s-s-s-secrets are no-n-no fun,” Max Headroom suddenly declared from a nearby screen. “Unless they’re sh-sh-shared with every-everyone!” He gave a gleaming smile that made Theora want to strangle him. By the time she had said “Shut up,” he was already gone. Sighing, Theora turned to join Bryce at her terminal, before someone came up to get her attention. “Excuse me- Theora?”

        Theora looked the man over, trying to place him. He was another of Network 23’s reporters, but she hadn’t interacted with him often, and it took a second for her to remember his name. “…Bruce?”

       “Yes,” Bruce said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you happened to know where Tina is. You know, my controller… We planned a rendezvous after her lunch break to talk about our recent story, but I waited for her and she hasn’t shown up yet.”

       _Tina…_ Theora shook her head distractedly. “No, I haven’t seen Tina since this morning. I’m sorry, Bruce.”

          “Never mind.” He waved the apology away and turned to leave. “It was worth a shot. Thanks anyway, Theora!”

       “You’re welcome,” Theora said. She finally went to her terminal just as Bryce called out to her. “Hurry up, Theora! If you don’t come quickly I’ll put you out of a job!”

         The words jogged a memory in Theora’s mind, of Tina’s voice saying she was envious of Bryce’s abilities as a controller. She shoved it away and smiled in Bryce’s direction. “All right, Bryce, I’m coming.”

                                                                            *

       When Tina awoke from her forced slumber, the first thing she noticed was the absence of light. This realization was so shocking that she nearly jumped out of her skin. Here in the city, _nothing_ was truly dark. The lights from the outside world and the lights of the TVs indoors created a world to banish human’s most basic fear. Slowly, as Tina’s eyes adjusted to three dimensions, she realized that the building in which she found herself wasn’t as dark or foreboding as it had first appeared to be. Though that wasn’t to say she felt safe. The roof was practically caving in, slips of outside light filtering in through the cracks above. The floor was hard and cold and unyielding, and the walls around her were bare. Each shadow seemed to teem with a hidden life, and Tina trembled against her will. Where was she, and why was she here? The last thing she remembered was walking back to 23 after lunch, with Bruce and his story on her mind… but then someone had approached her…

        “You wake, my sister?” called a distant voice. Tina, startled, almost leapt to her feet before a rough hand clamped against her chest and shoved her down hard. She lay stunned, as the sickly sweet voice crept along. “Lie very very still, oh my pretty one. There’s a horrorshow devotchka- and oh, what choodessny groodies she has, ah-ah-ah!” The hand groped her chest, and Tina opened her mouth to scream before another hand shoved its finger in front of her lips. “Ssshh. Quiet now, my pretty one. There’ll be no creeching today- not until you do as the great DeLarge skazats.” He chuckled, and the sound was inhuman, bouncing off the old stone walls of the rotting building. Tina shook with fear and horror.

         “You’re Alex Burgess,” she whispered, her voice muffled around his finger. “We’ve been looking for you at Network 23… You won’t be able to escape!” The last sentence was supposed to sound brave, but Tina’s voice rose in pitch, resembling a young girl who was trying not to cry. Alex said nothing. He removed his finger from her lips and leaned over, studying her. Tina flinched as she felt his hot, smelly breath on her face, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look any closer. Despite all of his sweet pet names, there was no affection within his gaze. His eyes had told her that he would torture, rape, or kill her without a care in the world. She was not a human in Alex Burgess’s eyes. To him, Tina was nothing but prey.

        “Network 23 has nothing on malenky starry me,” Alex breathed, enjoying every last syllable. At last, here was some fun. Poncho had only provided entertainment for a few days before her defiance had worn thin on Alex’s nerves, but here was a devotchka already close to tears. She had never been loved, Alex could tell. She had never dreamed of being captured by such a man. It was a pity that Alex could only use the promise of hurting her as a threat. What a waste of a perfectly fine human being.

         Tina’s determination to stay silent flew out the window when she felt Alex’s rough fingers move down her body, pushing her dress up. She shrieked and squirmed, trying to twist away from him, while he laughed horribly and pressed himself against her, pushing her down against the floor. She tried to shove him away, but he was too strong. In his hands, Tina withered. She lay limp, waiting for the blow that didn’t come. Instead, Alex pressed his lips to her ear and, after kissing her neck with gusto, whispered an ultimatum.

        “You shall work for me now, my pretty one. You shall like return to Network 23 to do your job. But at the end of the day, you shall have what I want- Bryce Lynch. Give him to me and all of your troubles will like fade away.”

       Then Alex moved his lips even closer to Tina’s ear, so that she heard every single nuance in his phrasing, every single hint of a breath. “If you don’t, I will give you something to creech about and worse, oh my pretty one. Much worse than you could ever like imagine.”

        Tina couldn’t say anything as Alex pushed himself up and stood, dusting off his clothes. She couldn’t move either, only wrapping her arms around herself when she heard him step out the door, whistling. Out in the street, someone on TV was reading sports scores.

                                                                               *

       Theora’s work for the rest of the day was exactly the kind of grueling work that she’d wholly enjoyed launching herself into in the past. But today the story was more serious and personal than ever. With Bryce at her side, Theora watched through Edison’s eyes as he navigated the street. First he stopped at the Metrocops’ headquarters, where a unit was sent out bound for the Fringes. Edison followed above in Martinez’s chopper. Then the force agreed to split up. Some Metrocops stayed behind to guard the vans, while others spread across the Fringes, each staking out a post in a bar or on a sidewalk corner in preparation for the elusive Alex. Edison turned himself loose and went to visit Blank Reg and Dominique, apologizing for the hapless actions of the Metrocops and inviting them to join the search. They readily agreed, disgruntled that their efforts to deliver Alex had been for naught, and at last the stage was set. All they needed now was the entrance of Alex Burgess.

        “No one’s answered at his house,” Murray reported when he dropped by Theora and Bryce’s workstation, having just called the number from a London directory. “We’ll have some of the Metrocops drop by the mag-lev station and see if A is waiting for a train.”

        “Thank you, Murray,” Bryce and Theora chorused in one voice, both pairs of eyes glued on the screen.

        So enraptured were they in the search that even when Edison passed the old, decrepit public library, he failed to notice a pair of glittering blue eyes staring malevolently out, waiting for Tina to make good on her promise. Waiting for Bryce to be delivered to him.

                                                                          *

        It was a long while before Tina regained the power to sit up on her own, a long while before she stopped shaking and rose to her feet to escape the dreaded building. Her head was reeling, and she half-expected Alex Burgess to come creeping out of the corners for more ridicule. No such apparitions appeared, however. Tina made it out of the prison of a building to find herself in the crowded streets of the Fringes, disturbing a small cluster of people sitting around a nearby TV. A few looked up with interest, and one whistled softly under his breath, taking in her upper-class appearance, before Tina fled in terror. Where _was_ she? One glance over her shoulder revealed the faded letters of a sign hanging over the building she had just left- “LIBRARY.” For a moment Tina was frozen as she stared at it, before rushing hurriedly across the street and into an alley. She wrapped her arms around herself for comfort, her heart pounding. _It’s all right… it’s all right…_

But it wasn’t all right. Alex Burgess- or DeLarge, whatever he had called himself- had demanded that Tina bring Bryce to him, or she would be hurt. The terrible threads of blackmail dug into Tina’s brain like barbed wire. Under no circumstances could she bring Bryce to Alex. But what if he by any chance found out where she lived? What if he ambushed her on the way to work the next morning… What if she was never found again?

        What meant more to Tina- her virtue and her life, or the life of a teenage genius? Granted, she had only met Bryce once, when Theora had been called to bring the Fringer girl back to her mother, and they hadn’t even spoken then. But how in the world could Tina hand Bryce over to his previous tormentor? After everything he had been through, turning him in would be the epitome of selfishness. She might even be indirectly responsible for his death.

        Shakily, Tina made her way out of the alley and tried to present a semblance of normality, though one look at her spotless purple dress and manicured nails would clue others in to her lack of belonging. At the end of the sidewalk, she saw a wagon approach, driven by a man and pulled by carthorses. The sight was unfathomable to Tina. She cried out to the man as he drew nearer. “Sir! Can you please- can you please give me a ride?”

        The man halted his wagon, and the horses whinnied. He scrutinized Tina with a world-weary, grizzled eye. “Sorry, miss. I only accept hitchhikers when they pay me- and none of that credit tube stuff,” he growled as Tina reached fumblingly for her purse. “We don’t take that kind of currency here.”

       “Please…” Tina could feel her resolve faltering, the tears rising heavily in her throat. “I just need to get back to Network 23. I was- kidnapped, and left here against my will… I don’t know my way around.” Not trusting her voice anymore, she bit her lip and waited for the man’s response, hoping that he had at least an inkling of kindness in him. Unfortunately, the man shook his head.

        “Network 23? I’m sorry, miss, but you’re on your own.” With that he flicked the reigns, and the wagon sped off, leaving Tina behind in the dust. She took in a deep breath and gathered her arms around herself again, pretending not to notice the stares of the Fringers who had picked themselves up from their endless TV watching to see what the fuss was all about. If that’s the way people were going to behave, Tina might as well walk home alone.

        As she took off down the street, her thoughts turned back to that impossible choice, the catch-22 that Alex had presented. Tina’s heart was screaming at her to do the right thing. But another, buried part of her was scared stiff. Again the _what if’s_ crowded her mind. What if Alex came to her on the street like he had today and dragged her off to that old library? What if decided he wasn’t satisfied simply with beating her? Visions of Alex’s hands traveling beneath her dress, of tearing the fabric to shreds on her body, of him forcing his way into her haunted Tina’s mind, until finally she had to stop in the street and tear her fingers into her immaculate blonde hair. God forbid Alex be the first to make violent love to her. God forbid she let him use her in such a way!

        But if the only way to prevent him from hurting her was to hand over an innocent boy to the hands of evil… what choice did Tina have?

        It was a long trek back to Network 23’s main building. By the time Tina got there her feet were aching miserably and her heart hurt as if someone had rubbed it raw and tossed it into a pool of bleach. As soon as she stumbled wearily through the door, she only made it a few steps before her reporter, Bruce, came rushing up to her. “Hey, Tina!” He hovered before her, blocking her path,  his eyes full of concern. “Where were you all afternoon? We were supposed to meet up and discuss our next story, remember?”

        Tina could only stare dully up at Bruce, regaining her faculties one by one. “…I’m sorry,” she said at last, taking in every detail of Bruce’s face, from the curve of his forehead to the number of times he blinked. “Something came up, and… I had to go home…” She knew that she shouldn’t lie to Bruce, but she had also never felt entirely comfortable around him. If anyone could help her with this mental ordeal, it most likely was not the hotheaded reporter she worked for.

        He exhaled in frustration and stepped away. “Well, I hope you’ve gotten everything cleared up now. We have a story to work on.” Tina watched as Bruce moved towards her terminal. She gently reached up to brush a spare strand of hair behind her ear, gazing at the terminal as if it was the first time she had seen such a machine. Her job a controller seemed very, very far away.

        “So,” said Bruce as Tina came over to join him, sitting down at her usual seat. “While you were out, did you happen to see anything of possible newsworthiness? I know Carter’s doing his big story over there, but the public would be well off with something fluffy to lighten the tension. You know?”

        “I… I know.” Numbly, Tina looked up from her terminal to stare at Theora’s workstation, where she and Bryce sat together, breathing in time. At once Tina felt the same sting of envy she had always felt when gazing upon Theora, accompanied by a strong feel of bitterness. _Theora’s the best controller in the country, possibly in the world,_ her familiar internal monologue began. _She has a great working relationship with Edison Carter and people respect and listen to her when on the job. Whereas here I am, a woman in the same position as Theora, and I’m not considered anywhere near as good. I’ve never gotten the best cases or the best reporters. Theora is destined to climb, and I’m always going to fall, fall, fall…_

Bruce snapped his fingers to try and get Tina’s attention. “Tina! I’m trying to talk to you. Did you see or hear anything that could possibly…”

        Tina didn’t hear the rest of her reporter’s question. The petty emotions vanished, a tightness in her chest replacing them. She swallowed heavily, convulsively, as she stared at Bryce and remembered Alex’s threat. Turn Bryce in or risk her life. Turn Bryce in or be tortured in his stead. Such a simple question, with such a simple answer… but how could she possibly answer it? Poor Bryce had been through so much, but Tina didn’t want that bastard Alex to assault her and leave her crippled body alone in the broken-down library, dying in a place that was not her home. She quickly tore her eyes away from Theora’s workstation and glanced at the black terminal screen for comfort, but suddenly she envisioned Alex’s hands emerging from it, reaching out to grab her…

        “I’m sorry!” The word came out choked as Tina rushed to her feet, unable to bear the conflict any longer. “I have to go…” It was all she could do to hide her building sobs as she hurried out the doors of the control room, leaving behind Bruce’s shocked expression.

       “Tina?” The reporter stared blankly at the slamming doors before shrugging, trying not to let his irritation get the best of him. Women… he would never understand them.

       Alone in the nearest restroom, Tina wept her frustration to the reflection in the glass before her. _Bryce,_ she thought, and the name cut her like a knife. He was so sweet, and so talented. He hadn’t deserved to be attacked by Alex, and he did not deserve now to be betrayed by Tina. She had to do the right thing. She had to tell Bryce that Alex was looking for him. But it was just so hard…

       Tina sucked in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes to gaze clearly at herself. The red-eyed young woman she saw in the mirror did not look as if she had any idea what to do with herself, and that bothered Tina greatly. Slowly, she began to pull her pieces back together. She reached for a paper towel and wet it in the sink, dabbing at her eyes. _Just tell Theora and Bryce that something’s gone wrong. Tell them that you know where Alex is. They’re searching for him, aren’t they? Tell them that Edison needs to check the inside of the library. The old library, the building that used to hold books… Alex can’t get you. He won’t get you. You’re safe and protected as long as you stay at Network 23. Just do the right thing._

After taking another deep breath, Tina felt steady. She sighed the breath out and balled up her damp paper towel, tossing it into the trash collector. It was time to march right up to Theora’s side and tell the expert controller that she, Tina Wilson, not yet an expert but starting to get there, had a lead on their story. The information was sure to blow them out of the water.

       As soon as Tina strode back into the control room, Bruce, who had been pacing back and forth in front of the terminal, now tried to corner her, grabbing her arm. “Tina, what are you doing? Never mind,” he conceded in the same breath, ignoring when Tina tugged her arm away from his grip. “Let’s just get back to work and put this all behind us.”

       “I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” Tina said, not even bothering to look back over her shoulder at Bruce as she walked away. Her unwavering blue eyes were set firmly on Theora’s workstation, her back ramrod straight. This time Tina was not going to run off and cower in the bathroom. She had a mission and she was not afraid to act it out. Just a few more steps, and she would be-

       “Excuse me!” A TV producer stepped in front of Tina. “What are you doing over here?”

         _Murray,_ Tina thought, squinting and folding her arms. Of course Murray, the famously jumpy producer of the _Edison Carter Show_ , wouldn’t want her to interrupt Theora when she was working, but Tina had important news. She stood her ground. “I’m sorry for interrupting, sir, but I have some very important news,” she said. “I think I know where Alex Burgess is.”

       Murray’s eyes widened, and he stepped aside. He went to the terminal and touched Bryce’s shoulder. Bryce peered up from the screen, his eyes slowly adjusting to three dimensions, and blinked in confusion- “What is it, Murray?”

       Murray leaned closer and whispered something to Bryce, and Bryce’s eyes immediately changed from his slightly spaced-out look to a far more observant expression. He got up from his seat and Murray followed him, leaving Theora behind. To Tina’s surprise, Theora didn’t even look up as Bryce left her side. _She must be really absorbed…_

“Hi, Tina, it’s nice to meet you,” Bryce said automatically upon approaching Tina. He looked vaguely distressed, though he tried his best to keep his composure. Murray stood behind him, eager to hear what Tina had to say. She didn’t even look at him, instead lifting the corners of her mouth into a small smile- “It’s nice to meet you too, Bryce.” _Again,_ her mind added silently. Her smile slowly faded as she took in every aspect of Bryce’s attire- from the motorcycle boots to the leather jacket and matching leather pants. The outfit was ill-fitting for a boy who looked as young as he was. How could she have even thought of turning him in? Despite his tough attire, Tina could tell from the look on Bryce’s face that he wouldn’t know how to handle himself in a crisis.

        Tina glanced at Murray for validation, and he sighed exasperatedly. “Just get on with it. We don’t have all day.” Tina nodded, before drawing her gaze back to Bryce, looking him directly in the eye. “Bryce, something happened to me on my way back to Network 23 today. I was kidnapped and brought to the old library in the Fringes. I’m sure you can guess who did it.” Even though Tina hadn’t been closely following Edison’s story, word had still reached her that Bryce had a negative reaction to hearing Alex’s name. Judging from the way his eyes tightened as he nodded in response, the word was serious.

        “What did he do to you?” Bryce asked breathlessly.

      “Nothing at all,” Tina answered. “I mean, he didn’t hurt me or anything, but he did threaten my life.” She took a deep breath, remembering how Alex had kissed her neck and pushed her dress up. “He said that if I didn’t bring you to him, he would find me and… do something very bad to me.” She looked up at Murray, who was listening intently to the tale. “I thought you and Theora should know.”

       “You said he’s in the library?” Bryce piped up, and Tina nodded. “He was when I left him. I think that’s where he wanted to take me.”

       “Well, first things first,” Murray said, uncrossing his arms. “We’ve got to catch him. Tina, you’ll be safe and sound here at Network 23.” He moved rapidly towards the terminal. “I’ll tell Theora to tell Edison that-”

       “But won’t he see the Metrocops coming?” Tina blurted out. “He’s not waiting to be ambushed. He’s waiting for me.”

         “We can’t have you or Bryce in harm’s way,” Murray growled, though he paused in his walk towards Theora. At this point, Theora lifted her head up from the terminal to ask, “Murray, what’s going on?”

        “A will attack Edison if he goes in there alone,” Tina said, feeling her heart speed up. “I don’t care how many Metrocops are down there- I think I should keep my end of the bargain.”

       “Hand Bryce over to a criminal? That’s insane!” exclaimed Murray.

       “What?” Theora blurted, confusion muddling her expression as she glanced from Murray to Bryce to Tina. “But you can’t-”

       “I don’t mean for real,” Tina tried to assuage her audience. “I mean if I came down there with Bryce as… as bait.” Bryce flinched at her side, but there was really no nicer way of saying it. “A will come out, thinking that I’ve made up my mind. But before he can reach Bryce…”

        “The Metrocops will come out and arrest him,” Bryce finished, piecing together the plan before anyone else did. “And Edison gets it all on camera.”

       There was a one-second pause before Theora said, “Are you sure you can handle going down there, Bryce?”

        “I’m sure,” he said, turning to face her. “I told you, I _want_ to meet you-know-who again.” Quick as a flash, he pulled out a switchblade from the pocket of his leather jacket and flipped the blade out. Tina stared in disbelief, wondering if Bryce knew what he was talking about. He looked like a kid playing with a toy, not a teenager seriously talking about killing a grown man.

       “I’ll take you on my bike,” she said, raising her voice before anyone could raise a protest. “Theora, you tell Edison what’s going on and make sure the Metrocops are in place by the time we get down there.”

       “All right,” Theora said, who had caught the gist of the conversation. She leaned close to her mic. “Edison, there’s been a change in plans…”

        Only Murray remained unconvinced, his eyes flickering onto Bryce’s face before landing on Tina’s. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

       “I’m sure,” Tina said. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought it would put Bryce in any danger.” _Unless Alex gets to us before the Metrocops,_ her mind said, but she ignored the notion. Murray waited before nodding. “All right. Just remember, if you don’t bring Bryce back in one piece, you’ll have hell to pay from the folks upstairs.”

        “I understand,” Tina replied. She placed her hand on Bryce’s shoulder. He looked up at her, his face expressionless but his eyes determined.

       “Come on, Bryce. You ever ridden a bike before…? Well, if you’re going to dress like that, you might as well learn how.” Together they made their way out of Network 23, trying to match each other’s strides, as Edison’s team geared up for the final showdown.

                                                                                      *

        “This certainly is a new experience!” shouted Bryce over the roar of the bike’s motor as he sped down the street towards the Fringes, his arms locked tight around Tina’s waist. Tina had no time to nod or look back at him. “We’ll be there shortly!” she shouted. “Just keep holding on!” Because Tina hadn’t come to work expecting that anyone else would need a ride, and because Bryce was so much more valuable than she was, she had willingly surrendered her face-guarded helmet to him. The wind whipped her hair back, and her eyes stung with streaming tears. Alex Burgess seemed to pose little danger when compared to this wild, sudden ride.

       Soon Tina approached her destination, a spot on the sidewalk that was two blocks down from the old public library. With hope, Alex wouldn’t be skulking around in the shadows, and wouldn’t see the set-up that was about to take place. Tina parked the bike by a streetlight and chained it up, while Bryce hopped off and made confidently towards the mobile home parked a few meters ahead of them. Tina watched from a distance as the door to the mobile home opened and Edison’s famous face appeared, his camera in hand. Following him were a couple of Fringers- a grizzled-looking man with a punk mohawk and a slender woman wearing too much makeup. Tina assumed they were Blank Reg and Dominique, the sole employees of Big Time Television, wanting their station to cover Alex’s arrest alongside Edison. The addition of unfamiliar faces sent a nervous thrill through the pit of Tina’s stomach, but she swallowed it back and forced her legs to move forward, her eyes zeroing in Edison, who in turn was focused on Bryce.

       “You rode all the way down here?” Edison said by way of greeting, a touch of amusement in his voice. Bryce shook his head and pulled his helmet off, revealing his hair to be even more mussed up than usual. “Tina Wilson drove me.” He pointed with him thumb at Tina, and she stopped herself from flinching as Edison’s serious blue eyes bore into her. She knew that Edison was an excellent reporter, worthy of respect, but there had always been something so intense about him that repelled her from him as a person, even when he was joking around. Theora’s ability to establish a good connection with Edison was another one of her many assets. A perfect match, they were…

        “Thanks for keeping Bryce safe,” Edison said to Tina, who nodded. He glanced over his shoulder to where Reg and Dominique were waiting, and then looked back at her. “I hope the situation you’ve brought him into is safe as well.”

         “A won’t touch him,” Tina swore. “How many Metrocops are out here?”

       “Enough to make sure one man won’t escape,” Edison answered in a roundabout way. He reached out to warmly clap Tina’s shoulder. “This is a brave thing you’re doing. You think you can handle it?”

       “Yes,” Tina whispered, nodding fast and hard. She looked over at Bryce. “Are you all right?”

        “Never been better.” His eyes shifted from Edison’s face to Tina’s face, unsure where to land. “My pulse is going up. Must be the adrenaline.”

        “Just don’t do anything crazy,” Edison gently warned Bryce, before turning his attention back to Tina. “You walk Bryce along the street to the library, and Reg and I will follow in the RV. The Metrocops will wait for you to find Ale- the criminal in the library before coming in. I’ll be right behind them to cover the story.” He patted her shoulder again, before patting Bryce as well. “You two stay safe, okay?”

        “Got it,” Bryce said immediately. “Self-preservation is our first priority. Right, Tina?”

        “Right,” said Tina dully. “You’re my first priority.” But even as she spoke those words of confidence, a deep shiver went through her. It was foolish to chicken out now, but the thought meeting Alex again in an abandoned library with all the lights out gave Tina major heebie jeebies. And what if the Metrocops weren’t quick enough… and what if Alex decided to take Tina as a hostage alongside Bryce?

        But she couldn’t panic now. The exchange was her plan after all, and she had to follow through with it.

        “Okay, come with me,” said Edison, and together they all trudged towards the mobile home, where Dominique was already revving the engine.

                                                                           *

       Waiting for the woman he had encountered on the street that day was a mind-numbingly boring activity that left no option but to pace and pace again. Alex DeLarge, standing at the far end of the old library and heedless of the broken beams over his head, felt that perhaps the woman had made an impossible promise. What was the sense in killing Bryce, anyway? After Carter’s broadcast earlier in the afternoon, the entire world knew that Alex was the attacker. Killing Bryce to silence him didn’t strike Alex as a wise action, not anymore. And yet he desired with his entire being to finish the act he had begun- to see Bryce’s blood flow from his body, see his pitiful blue eyes begging for mercy… It was worth staying in this city, worth all the more trouble he could get into, to destroy his victim at last.

       After several long hours of agonizing pacing, a silhouette of two humans finally appeared in the library’s doorway, the female figure holding the male figure by the shoulders. “Alex?” she called out tentatively. Alex waited in the depths of the shadows for her to come forward, not wanting anyone outside to see him.

       “I’m here with Bryce. Where are you?”

         “Come to me, my pretty malenky sister,” Alex hissed under his breath. Slowly she did, walking Bryce forward. It seemed strange that not a sound came from his mouth, no protests whatsoever, but perhaps he was scared too stiff to think straight. A hideous smile played upon Alex’s face. Soon he would put Bryce out of his misery…

        As Tina walked forward, she felt her legs tremble beneath her, but she took a deep breath to still the reaction. Now was supposed to be her moment of courage. Bryce moved like a robotic instrument, his feet mechanically shuffling forward. From the tight grip on his shoulders, Tina could feel the small tremors stealing over him, proving that his tough act was all just bravado. There was nothing she longed for more than to rush Bryce out of there, hug him, and ride back to the safe arms of Network 23. But her nerves clenched like steel and she forced herself to proceed, stopping just inches away from the mobile shadow before her.

        Even in the darkness, Alex’s smile was visible. “I viddy that you have made the right choice, oh my sister. ‘Tis such a shame that I must let you go now.” His hand came out and waved at her. “Give me the malchick, and be skorry.”

        “All right…” Tina mumbled, trying to resist the urge to glance towards the doorway. Where were the Metrocops and Edison? Shouldn’t they be coming in now?

        Alex cocked his head, staring at Bryce. “So, what have you to skazat to the great DeLarge? Any final slovos, perhaps?”

        Bryce tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was a soft gasp. He fumbled in his pocket for the switchblade with cold, clammy hands.

       Then white light blasted the world as the Metrocops raced in, brandishing guns and torches. “This is the Metropolice! We’re here to arrest Alexander Burgess for the assault of Network 23 employee Bryce Lynch! Put your hands in the air and face the wall!”

       Edison was right behind them, just as he said he would be. As the Metrocops raced in and pinned Alex, and as one of the officers encircled Bryce and Tina and led them towards the exit, Tina heard his smooth, calm voice speaking. “This is Edison Carter, reporting live from Network 23, at the scene of the arrest of Gramodisc Archivist and wanted criminal Alexander Burgess. As those who have been following our story will know, Burgess is the mastermind this city’s recent gang activity. His violent urgings came to a head when he brutally beat and raped Network 23’s head of technology, Bryce Lynch…”

       The words swirled out into the open air as Tina and Bryce came outside to meet Dom and Reg, who were peeping curiously into the building, trying to catch sight of the struggle within. Once she was standing in the light, Tina looked down at herself and noticed that she was clinging tightly to Bryce’s hand. She laughed shakily and let go. Bryce’s hand flew to his forehead, wiping off the sweat that had formed. He must have been just as terrified as Tina.

        Theora, of course, saw it all from behind the safety and comfort of her terminal. She and Murray watched in awed silence as the Metrocops easily took down Alex, cuffing him and holding him taut between two officers. His snarling, enraged face filled up the screen as the Metrocops moved past Edison, and a scream exploded into the night air- “I’ll get you, Carter! You and Bryce both! Just wait and see!” But Edison went on narrating as if the threat hadn’t happened, for both he and Theora knew that Alex was going straight into an airtight prison from which he could never escape. It wasn’t until transmission ended that Theora glanced up at Murray, and together they shared a triumphant smile.


	11. Chapter 11

       Of course, the triumph didn't last forever, mainly due to the legal issues inherent in convicting Alex. After congratulating Edison for a job well done, having Edison and Murray congratulate her in return, raising a toast to Tina with champagne that a coworker had scrounged up, and trying to let Bryce know that he wasn’t any less noble or courageous just because he balked in the face of danger, Theora barely had enough time to go home and enjoy a nightcap with Kent before her duties called her the next morning. As predicted, the London government had caught wind of Alex's capture, and they were decidedly pissed about it.

       "The Minister of the Interior has decided to pay a visit to Network 23," Murray told Theora in a message on the viewphone that morning. "He's waiting here for a chance to talk with everyone involved with the story. You'd better hurry- I don't think he's in a good mood." Theora nodded, thanked Murray, and immediately began to dress, not even blinking at Kent’s disappearance from her apartment. She understood that he only left so early in order not to catch hell from his boss for coming in late. It was just another facet of their relationship that they needed to work around.

       When Theora finally made her way down to Network 23, she discovered that Murray had understated the mien of the Minister. Upon walking into the control room, her first signal that something was amiss was the unfamiliar group of three men standing by her workstation. Two of them were clothed in black and stood side by side, with the remaining man in the middle. Theora guessed, as she hurried over, that the two men in black were security guards and their quarry was the Minister of the Interior. He wore an impeccable satin suit, his pale blue eyes boring into Murray and Edison and his pointed nose raised disdainfully in the air.

       "Well now!" he declared in a sharp, distinctly British voice as soon as he caught sight of Theora. "Is this everyone, then? Controller, reporter, producer…"

       "We're still waiting on Tina Wilson and Bryce Lynch," Murray said. “They were also involved in the story.” Theora privately wondered why Bryce wasn’t already in the control room. Last she’d heard, he was still avoiding his studio.

       "Ah, yes." The Minister of the Interior set his shoulders defiantly and cast a wide gaze across the room, full of network employees vainly trying not to eavesdrop.  _Doesn't this beat everything!,_  they were surely thinking. Rows between reporter and producer were no cause for alarm and could be ignored, but to have an elected official called down from another city to object to a piece of television… This was an entirely new occasion.

       The Minister of the Interior, whose name Theora had failed to catch, stared harshly at those struggling to remain calm. Then his eyes shifted to Theora. He seemed to be mentally, roughly sizing her up, expecting her to wither under his impervious gaze. Theora ignored him, looking first to the cool, controlled Murray, and then to Edison. From the tense set of his jaw and the sparks whirling about his deep eyes, Theora could tell that he was formulating numerous defenses, to be regurgitated verbally as soon as the Minister allowed him to do so.  _Let me handle this,_ Theora could almost hear him say. She sighed through her nose and looked down at her feet, hoping that she didn’t stand out in any way.

       As if in answer to some unspoken prayer, the doors opened and in came Tina and Bryce, walking side by side and gazing proudly as if prepared to face numerous challenges together. Theora's heart leapt to see Bryce, who had reverted from the biker gear he'd worn the day before to a long sweater and crumpled jeans. Then her breath caught as she noticed his hand in Tina's more elegant one. They made an odd couple, the youthful Bryce with glazed eyes that suggested he had been staring at his computer for too long, and the taller, graceful Tina with carefully-applied lipstick and dizzying high heels. When they stopped at the end of the room, Tina spoke first, and the words that fell from her ruby mouth were infused with joy. "Good morning, everyone."

       "Morning," was all Bryce said, but he sounded more content than he had in days. Though his grip on Tina's hand relaxed, he did not let go of her.

       "Hi guys," Edison responded, seemingly just as bemused as Theora, all mental arguments momentarily abandoned. "Where did you run off to last night?"

       Tina laughed nervously, and Bryce let go of her hand to reply. "Before everyone else left, I went back to my lab and Tina came to join me. I showed her some of the stuff I’ve been working on."

        "And…" Edison began, but then he fell silent, as if remembering something vitally important. Theora could only guess what he had been about to say.  _And you stayed there all night?_

       "I went home later," Tina clarified, looking from face to face and letting the unasked question sink in. "But I came by to see Bryce this morning."

       Slowly, Edison nodded, and Theora repeated the action. Murray only continued to stare at the couple, as if he wasn't sure they were real. No doubt he was confused to learn that Bryce apparently had feelings for a woman.

       Before any explanations could follow, the Minister of the Interior cleared his throat. "Ahem," he said, extending a hand towards Tina. "I presume that everyone has arrived? Here are Tina and Bryce?"

       "Yes," Tina said politely as she ended the handshake and the Minister went on to greet Bryce. "Here we are."

       "Good, good." The Minister of the Interior released Bryce's hand and stepped back to survey and scrutinize the motley crew before him. The dark eyes of his security guards stared with open judgement. "So we all know why I have paid you a visit- to discuss the, em, matter of Alexander Burgess."

       Upon hearing the name, Theora couldn't help but look over to Bryce. He held himself steady, but his face slowly grew paler. Tina gently wrapped an arm around him.

       "Burgess is a fine citizen of our fair city," the Minister continued. "He bounced back from his… ordeal several years ago remarkably well, and has shown much promise as an employee at the Gramodisc Archives. It would be a shame to lose someone as hard working as Burgess due to one simple… indiscretion."

       At that, Edison spoke up, not even bothering to hide his outrage at the Minister's dismissal. "Sir, I would say I was sorry to say this, but I'm not gonna lie. To call Alex Burgess's  _spree_ here in our city a mere indiscretion is complete, absolute  _bullshit."_

       The Minister of the Interior stiffened. "Wh-"

       "I don't think you're aware of the full scope of the problem," Edison continued angrily. "Alex did more than assault a network employee. He's also the leader of the teenage gang that terrorized our city until they were caught several weeks ago. If you think that a depraved person such as Alex should be let off scot-free, well-"

       "But what do you expect to do with him?" the Minister cut in coldly. "Put him on one of your silly little game shows? Alex is above the law, Mr. Carter, and you should know that. He is a government employee."

       "And yet you can't deny that he's guilty," Murray said softly. "You must have watched the broadcast."

        " _And_ you can't deny that he's dangerous," Theora added. "According to my research, Alex has been allowed to continue his acts of violence in secret, under the guise that he has been cured by a controversial practice called… the Ludovico treatment?" She purposefully phrased the fact as a question in order to watch the Minister's blue eyes grow wide, before he regained control of himself. "But your government administered the treatment itself. You had to have known if it didn't work on Alex."

       "The actions of my predecessor, Ms. Jones, do not concern you," the Minister of the Interior said guardedly.

       "By allowing Alex to continue a public life, you're risking not only the lives of our citizens, but your citizens as well!" Edison burst out. The Minister of the Interior slowly turned his head to meet Edison with a steely gaze.

       "But what makes you so sure that I won't give Alex a fair trial?" he said in a genial yet deadly voice. "All I'm asking is to prosecute Alex under the laws of the city of London. That is the reason for my visit. Your team here at Network 23 has meddled in our affairs… muddying up our legal system."

      "Your reputation is far too important for you to give Alex a fair trial," Edison hissed.

       There was a tense silence. Then Bryce spoke up, causing all eyes to snap onto him.

        "A- Al- Alex can't be prosecuted under a London jury," he said, the name wrenched from his mouth but the rest of the sentence flowing evenly. His eyes were alight, his mind engaged. "The citizens of London aren't familiar with this case. The crimes that Al- Alex has committed concern our city only. It’s pretty simple, really. A jury composed of people from London has no relevance, as they won't have any bearing on what he's done."

        The Minister of the Interior inhaled sharply and fixed Bryce with a malevolent look. "You're the boy who was raped, aren't you?"

       "Yes, he is, and he doesn't like to be reminded of it," Tina said defiantly, slipping her hand away from Bryce's neck to take ahold of his hand. A glare formed around her eyes.

        "Bryce has a good point," Murray said. "Bryce can't be tried by a jury that has nothing to do with the problem. This case is ours."

        "Pish-posh," the Minister snorted. "That may be true, but you still can't very well put him on  _You The Jury._ He's a government employee, for Christ's sake! Your program  _You The Jury_ is for low-lifes such as the Blanks, not for our respected-"

        "Respected my ass," Edison cut in, and Theora had to stop herself from giggling at his crude word choice. "Alex deserves to be tried as a low-life- he's just as scummy as all the rest of them."

       "Besides," Murray began, choosing his words carefully, "he can be forced onto the show by popular opinion."

        "Popular opinion?" The Minister was clearly not amused, but sudden inspiration stole over Theora. She broke away from the group and stepped into the middle of the room, clearing her throat before projecting her voice. "Excuse me! Who here has been following Edison's story regarding Alex Burgess?"

       Slowly, the hiding eyes peeped out, before numerous hands shot into the air. One brief sweep of the eyes was all Theora needed to confirm it. They had all been following the story, most likely because it involved one of their kind. Nodding, Theora drank in the sight before asking, this time in a quieter voice, "And how many of you think that Alex should be tried on  _You The Jury_ rather than given a trial in court? Show your hands."

       The hands stayed up.

       "I-I-I agree!" Max Headroom blurted from a nearby screen.

       Triumphantly, Theora turned back to the Minister of the Interior and gestured to the people behind her. For once she was surprisingly grateful for the network employees' habit of eavesdropping.

       "The jury," Edison murmured humorously, "is in."

       And so the program was scheduled to take place in two days, and everyone relaxed.

       But there was a small problem with the boyfriend.

       "Come on, Theora," Kent pleaded, his dark, beautiful eyes imploring her sweetly. "I promise I won't distract you from your testimony. It's just, this is an important event for anyone who's been following the story, and I've never been on TV before." A grin took ahold of his lips, even as he attempted to remain serious. The glow of televised fame was always too much to resist, Theora reflected. "We can make it a date, if you like."

       "A date watching a dangerous criminal get convicted?" Theora stated. Kent only laughed modestly and amended his statement. "I mean we can do something after the show, once everything's over and done with, as a way to celebrate. Come on," he repeated, practically begging Theora to look at him as her head tilted to stare at her toes. "Just get me on the jury. I've been following this story along with you, and it would mean a lot to me to join you in the courtroom."

       Theora lifted her head and stared over at him, not sure how to respond. "You'd never get on the jury with that attitude," she murmured. "You know they don't want anyone biased."

       "Then I can serve as a witness," Kent said. "You know, I saw that Bryce kid when he was over here. I can-"

       His words were silenced as Theora shook her head no and looked down at the ground again. She wondered if maybe the lure of the camera was all that was gripping Kent. There were several problems with his suggestion to join her in the courtroom, such as his bias and that she didn't want to use her position as controller to get Kent onto the jury. But the major issue was, of course, the fact that just two days ago Theora had told Edison that she was not romantically involved with anyone. If he saw her with Kent he would know immediately that she had been lying, which could potentially fracture their relationship. This final reason had to stay a secret from Kent, though, because Theora didn't want any bad blood between her clingy reporter and prone-to-jealousy boyfriend.

       Eventually Kent wrapped a strong arm around Theora’s shoulder, trying to get her to respond. She glanced up at him and swallowed heavily, controlling her expression. "You can watch it on TV like everyone else," she said, reaching up to press a finger to Kent's mouth. "I'm sorry, but I don't want anyone to think you're mooching off me- and I don't want to use my position to get you a role that you don't actually deserve to fill." The words sounded harsh after they had left her mouth, but Theora couldn't think of any other way to phrase it.

       "Promise we'll still go on a date after?" Kent mumbled around Theora's finger.

        Theora sighed and leaned in, throwing her arms around his neck. "Of course." Their lips met and their eyes closed.

*

       Amidst a swirl of jazzy lounge music, a jovial voice declared, "Welcome to  _You The Jury,_ held by your host and newly-appointed judge, Paul Waites!"

       Theora blinked as the bright stagey lights flashed on and Paul Waites bounced out, waving a cheerful hello to the audience. She shuffled closer to Bryce, who stood beside her at the stand, his face blank to conceal his emotions. On Bryce's other side was Edison, his hands in his pockets and his eyes aimed at the floor. Theora guessed that he was trying to avoid the exact same thing she was trying to avoid- namely, the handcuffed and furious Alex Burgess standing at the other podium onstage, his murderous eyes flashing constantly at Bryce. His lawyer, the special guest attorney Skylar Ginty, appeared unfazed by the villainous appearance of her client, as she stood smartly in place with a clipboard in hand. In accordance with the rules of the game, Bryce had also hired a prosecutor, who would be asking most of the questions throughout the show, but Theora and Edison had agreed to stand onstage with him for familiarity and protection. Tina and Murray sat in the audience as onlookers rather than members of the jury, ready to be called to the stand as a witnesses if need be. On the opposite side of the panel sat the Minister of the Interior and his advisors.

       "Will the jury please rise?" Paul declared jovially, and everyone got to their feet, including a baleful Alex, who stared over at Bryce and sneered. Theora, scanning the audience, noticed that Tina looked very worried. She was wringing her hands unconsciously, her eyes trained on Bryce.

       "Today's case is Lynch v. Burgess, which Network 23 has been kindly covering for us," Paul explained to anyone who wasn't in the know. Even with a supposedly unbiased jury, such things were never possible, but a few might have been tuned to other stations when the big news went down. Theora suspected that the jury had been culled from those non-viewers.

       "Alex Burgess, on my left," Paul continued, gesturing, "has been accused of sexually assaulting Bryce Lynch, an employee at Network 23 who stands to my right. Now, the rules of the game are simple, folks. The prosecutor, Budd Sherbet, will ask the questions and present evidence, and for any objection or motion to be made, you guys up here-" He rapped on Bryce's podium before gazing warily over at Alex. "You guys up here can buzz in. Our special guest attorney this episode is the ineffable Skylar Ginty." Skylar raised her arm and waved in a queenly fashion to the crowd, and the jury applauded. Theora dared to look at Alex to see what he thought of the regal woman before him, and saw an evil smile lighting his face. Though his eyes were guarded, it was apparent from the rest of his expression that he was depending on Skylar as his salvation.  _With hope,_ Theora thought,  _he'll be proven dead wrong._

       "By the end of the trial, it'll be up to you-" Paul pointed flamboyantly to the audience- "to decide what kind of punishment the convicted deserves. You… are the jury!" There was another wave of applause. Theora wasn't sure, but she guessed that there was a bright red sign flashing somewhere over her head with the word APPLAUSE on it.

       With another swirl of instrumental music, Paul hopped down from the stage and took his seat before the audience, facing the stage, ready to keep the trial running smoothl. The stage was left up to Budd Sherbet and Skylar Ginty, as well as Edison, Theora, Bryce, and Alex. For the first time since she had stepped onto the  _You The Jury_ soundstage, Theora felt her heart begin to beat faster. Up until now she hadn't considered that maybe Alex would be let go, but as she watched Skylar's fine retaliations and heard her convincing argument, she began to wonder if her belief would be shaken.

       The first piece of evidence shown was a portion of the eyewitness report that Max had inadvertently filmed, in which it was made absolutely clear that Alex Burgess was the perpetrator. Whether or not he had done it was not the point of the trial, Theora realized. His guilt was obvious, but the severity of his sentence depending on his attorney’s argument. After the film, Bryce's confession tape was also screened, and the real Bryce stared down at the podium in front of him and closed his eyes, apparently trying to block out the sound of his own voice. Theora laid her hand on his shoulder and looked away as well, remembering what a bad shape Bryce had been in that day. Only Edison took in every detail of his own news piece, using the trauma in Bryce's voice and eyes to spur his emotions in preparation for his testimony.

        "What have you got to say to that?" Budd Sherbet asked Skylar directly when the video was over. "Your client is undeniably guilty."

       "I'll agree to that," Skylar said, her shining eyes moving shiftily, "but Alex wasn't himself during the attack."

       "What?" Edison muttered under his breath, forgetting that he was wearing a mic. Both he and Theora stared at Skylar in bewilderment. Theora had the feeling that they shared the same thought-  _is she really pleading insanity?_

       Stepping out into the middle of the soundstage, Skylar gestured towards Alex, who had plastered on an innocent face, and pitched her voice high in order to garner sympathy. "Alex told me himself that when he saw Bryce at Network 23, he was filled with an inexhaustible rage and took leave of his senses. It wasn't the real Alex Burgess, the mild-mannered archivist as Gramodisc, who would have beaten Bryce as badly as he did. The problem clearly lies in a chemical imbalance in his brain, which means-"

       "Objection!" Edison snapped, buzzing in. Budd whirled around in surprise, not expecting the buzzer to be used so soon.

       "With all due respect, ma'am, Alex Burgess is the last person you would call 'mild-mannered,'" he said, his voice authoritative and his eyes firmly fixed on Skylar. "This one incident is just one of many attacks on the people in our city. When I first met Alex, he was suspected of being the leader of the teenage gangs on whom I did a story a few weeks ago. Furthermore, since he's come to our city, he's not only raped Bryce but he's also kidnapped and threatened another Network 23 employee, Tina Wilson." Edison pointed to her in the audience, and Tina nodded fiercely, her eyes anywhere but on Alex's face.

       "Flights of madness, all of it," Skylar answered smoothly. "Alex is an unwell man who only needs the help that his government has not provided him."

       "And do you believe such an unstable man should work for a government-owned agency?" Budd questioned.

        Skylar's response disappeared as Paul hit a button on his seat that caused the sound of a gavel to ring out across the room. "We'll come back to that question on  _You The Jury,"_ he said, turning to aim his words at the camera, "after this break!"

       Once the cameras went off, Theora instantly relaxed, the tension in her shoulder muscles draining away. She still felt nervous thanks to Alex's presence, but the commercial break allowed her to breathe easily. Bryce whispered something to Edison in a quiet voice. Together they walked down from the soundstage and leaned over the rail separating them from the audience, exchanging a few words with Tina and Murray. Tina held Bryce's hand for a few moments, and he looked down at it with surprise.

       Alex DeLarge had to remain seated for the safety of the jury, watched by hidden Metrocops, though he wasn't handcuffed and supposed he could have incapacitated the Metrocops at any moment. Well, he wouldn't get very far without his trusty britva, so that idea was out… As Skylar walked back onstage after chatting with the Minister of the Interior, a plastic bottle of designer water in her hand, Alex gave her an entirely naughty wink, the meaning of which did not pass her by. She stared as she strode past, but made no comment, and Alex grinned. With luck, Skylar would set him free, and then he would reward her. He was only bothering to keep up with this farcical trial for her sake. Of course, it also depended on that old bastard, the Minister of the Interior, who had tried but failed to keep Alex safe. A harsh stare was all he would be getting from DeLarge.

       "To your places, please!" Paul Waites called out one minute before the show came back on. Everyone scurried back onstage or back into the audience, ready to begin round two. As soon as the cameras were rolling, Skylar Ginty attempted to answer Budd Sherbet’s question by explaining that Alex was perfectly harmless at the Gramodisc Archives. She called her first witness to the stand, and the Minister of the Interior came up, flanked by bodyguards, to talk about why his predecessor had given Alex the job and why he himself continued to let Alex work there. "Alex loves music more than anything," he told the eager jury. "It's saved his life countless times. It would be cruel to think of taking away his favorite thing because of mental instability."

       "His favorite thing besides raping and murdering, you mean," Edison muttered under his breath, and Theora shot him a warning look-  _you're on network television!_ But of course, Edison had never been afraid to state such things when he was working on his own show.

       "And do you think," Budd Sherbet asked the Minister of the Interior, "that your government has provided him with the means necessary to help him with said instability?"

       The Minister dipped his head. "I will admit that we've failed Alex in the past, but we deeply regret our actions. Alex deserves better life opportunities, just like everyone in England."

       "Where'd he come up with that cr-" Edison began, but this time he spoke audibly enough for Budd, Skylar, and the Minister to notice and glar. Theora reached around Bryce to lightly tap Edison on the shoulder. "If you want to say something, buzz in," she whispered.

       Edison buzzed in, and from that moment on, the tides turned in favor of Bryce Lynch and Network 23.

       Edison made a brilliant orator, speaking on behalf of every 23 employee and on behalf of Bryce. He accused and condemned Alex, and before asking Budd if he would allow the witnesses to be brought up, one by one. Budd agreed, and Paul confirmed the motion. Almost immediately, Tina went up to the podium to give a slightly tearful recollection of her kidnapping by Alex, the memories still painfully fresh after three days. "If I had lost my nerve that day, Bryce might not be alive now," she concluded in a shaking voice. "I don't think anyone could trust a man as prone to threats and emotional blackmail as Alex."

      Then there was another commercial break. Theora gave Tina a hug, but Tina reached for Bryce once Theora had let go. They had only a few moments to clasp hands and exchange comforting words before Tina left the stage. Bryce stood watching her, his expression guarded, even as hurt filled his eyes.

       After the break, Theora took the stand and explained what she had learned from her searches on the Ludovico treatment- namely, that it hadn't treated Alex at all. "Alex might have remained a good citizen under the care of the Ludovico treatment, had the process not been reversed," she said. "That London's government released an ex-criminal back into society with full knowledge of how little the treatment had worked is a testament to the Minister of the Interior's obsession with staying popular, rather than doing what is best for the people." She didn’t want to say those words, especially with his successor glaring daggers a few meters away, but she had no choice. "Alex tried to keep his return to a life of crime a secret, but the signs all pointed to him when we discovered the teenage gangs in our city."

        That only left Murray to explain how he had found Bryce after the attack and so had witnessed firsthand the horrors Alex had inflicted. Skylar floundered in her best attempts at defense. A weight began to lift from Theora's shoulders. It seemed pretty clear that Alex would be convicted, allowing Network 23 to rest easy. The nightmare was almost over. But first, they would have to hear from the jury.

      Once all evidence had been presented, Paul Waites stood up, thanked both teams for their participation, and turned his attention onto the jury. "Now's your chance, folks! Any decision you make will become the undisputed law. Is Alex Burgess guilty? And if he is, what punishment does he deserve? You decide… after this break!"

       As soon as the red ON AIR light went dead Edison, Theora and Bryce herded themselves down from the soundstage and off to Murray and Tina. They huddled together and stared in wonderment. "Is this really it?" Theora breathed. The trial had seemed to go by in mere seconds.

       "I think we did it," Murray announced. "I think Alex Burgess is going to jail for good, if he doesn't get the death penalty."

      "Thank the nonexistent deity," Bryce said softly. Tina looked happily down at him, a smile on her face.

       Edison reached over and took Theora's hand, squeezing it once before letting go. The contact was such a surprise that Theora glanced up at him, startled, to find a relaxed grin on his face. "The jury'd better choose right if they know what's good for them," he said, but Theora could tell that he didn't think there was a huge possibility of losing the case. She smiled back and fought the urge to impulsively throw her arms around him.

       Soon the show returned, and both teams stood around their respective podiums, listening as Paul Waites thanked everyone again for being "such good sports" and threw around details about next week’s episode. Finally, he addressed the jury for the last time. "Jury! Is Alex Burgess innocent or guilty?"

       "GUILTY!" the jury roared back, with such vivacity that Theora was stunned. Fans of Network 23 or not, these people really cared about Bryce Lynch.

       "And," Paul exclaimed, "what should his punishment be?"

      "THE LUDOVICO TREATMENT!"

_The Ludovico treatment…_

_The Ludovic treatment._

       Deep within himself, Alex's heart shattered.

       The Ludovico treatment! Of all the punishments in the world, it just had to be the one that he hated most of all, the one that had been his torment for days on end, the one that he still had nightmares about even now! It was bad enough that Skylar had lost the case, but this… this was a whole new circle of Hell. Alex would have rather died than undergo the Ludovico treatment again.

       As Network 23's team rejoiced, everyone hugging Bryce and hugging each other (except for Murray, who managed to dodge every embrace but Theora's), no one noticed as Alex was cuffed again and hauled out of the building. For all anyone knew, Alex had become one of the nameless teenage boys from the gangs he’d led, paraded into a white van to never be seen again. Even Bryce was so startled by his first kiss, given at once by an ecstatic Tina, that he didn't hear the wordless wail that escaped Alex as he railed against the Ludovico treatment.

       When Edison's arms enveloped Theora, she leaned into him and soaked up his warmth, clinging to his sturdy body and inhaling the interesting scents mingling on his clothes. The embrace didn't last very long, but to Theora it felt like a lifetime. She pulled back and beamed at Edison as he placed his hand on her shoulder, mirroring her expression.

       "Well, Theora, now that  _that's_ over with, would you care to join me for a drink?"

       That was when a familiar voice called "Theora!" from behind her back.

       Confused, Theora turned around- and came face-to-face with none other than Kent. She barely had enough time to process her shock before he swooped her into his arms. "Surprise!" he cried, holding her tightly. Theora blinked numbly. "Kent! How did you-"

       "I got on the jury at the last minute," he said. "Guess they don't do very thorough background checks. I saw the whole thing, Theora, and you were amazing! I'm so proud right now." He gently took her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her.

      Theora tried to focus on the kiss, but her ears pulled snippets of conversation from the air around her instead. The first thing she heard was Edison's startled voice- "Who's the guy with Theora?"

       Dazed, Bryce correctly identified Kent from the brief time he had met him at Theora's apartment. "Oh, that? That's Theora's boyfriend."

       Theora's eyes shot open.  _NO-_ As soon as Kent let go of her, she turned around, but it was too late. Edison, quivering intensely, whirled around and stalked off towards the exit.

       "Are you going to introduce me to any of your friends?" Kent asked, blissfully unaware of what had just come to pass. "I've never met anyone famous. Hey-" He nudged her. “What about Edison Carter?”

       Theora turned back to him, her mouth open but no sound coming out, lost for words. It appeared that she had just lost a friend in Edison Carter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can Theora salvage her friendship with Edison? Will Bryce and Tina’s relationship last? Will Max ever get his own show?! Find out in the next installment, Watch More TV...


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